Nothing I Have Ever Known
by Frellian
Summary: The young dwarf Várar is raised by elves, having learned their language and customs. But then a couple of dwarves cross her path and she finds herself drawn to them. They are nothing like she excepted dwarves to be like and yet they are. And what does their leader know of her mother?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Hey guys, it's me again. Like I said, I'm working on a new story, requested by Mystique999. **

**I do not own any character from the Hobbit, exept my oc's. Since Tolkien had used Norse names for the dwarves, I too will use Norse names.**

**Anyway, here is the prologue. **

* * *

**Raining Memories**

Her long, thick auburn hair moves gently as the wind is playing with it. The soft fabric of her emerald-green dress moves gently in the wind as well as the female is sitting in the grass. Her bright blue eyes, the brightest he has ever seen. Her name, Gefn.

Thorin watches as the young female is looking over the plain. Her eyes sparkle as they enjoy the view. Not that he can complain about his view either. The young dwarf has had his eyes set on her for a a long time now. Years he has watched her, knowing she will never be his. As he watches her, he remembers the day he had first seen her in a new light.

Gefn had returned back to Erebor after having been with her kin in Ered Luin. In those five years her body had transformed. She had been eighteen back then, and blessed with the body of a grown dwarrowdam. And as all the ladies of the court, her dress was made to show of her feminine forms. Showing enough cleavage to reveal her full breasts – with him being male in his early youth, how could he not notice that? – and her wide hips, perfect for child-baring.

But it would not be _his_ child she would bare once she became of age, for she had been promised to another. She always had been, but Thorin had never cared about that particular braid in her hair. Not until then. Since that day he had wished it had been him she had been promised to even before birth. But alas, it had not been him. She had been promised to Vigr, eldest son of Vigo. A fine and noble dwarf.

His eyes lower down to the swell of her belly. Though it is still some time before she will bare her first child - Vigr's child -, her belly is already showing and Thorin feels a wave of jealousy overcome him. Even after ninety years, Thorin still has feelings for the female. Not one female can give him the same warm feeling with just a laugh, though many have tried.

'I can feel? Fíli can feel?'

Thorin looks at his nephew a gentle smile on his face. The three year old lad has placed his small hands on Gefn's belly, a serious look on his face. Then the boy laughs as he feels the babe move. He places his head on her belly as well, screeching in joy as he gets another kick from the babe.

'Careful, sweetheart,' Dís says as she tries to capture her son.

But the boy is too fast and quickly runs away. He spots his uncle and quickly makes his way over to him, hiding behind his leg. Being only three years of age, Fíli strongly believes no one can see him as long as he can't see them. So the blond lad places his small finger to his lips, whispering to Thorin he is hiding.

'Oh, then I better not tell your mother,' Thorin plays along and the three year old smiles brightly at him.

'Oh dear, I do believe Fíli is gone,' Gefn says as she looks anywhere but at the boy. 'Thorin have you seen the lad?'

'No, I think I have not.'

'Whatever should we do?' Dís says with a smile as she sneaks over to her boy. 'My dearest son is gone... _Gotcha_!'

Fíli screeches in joy as his mother picks him up, tickling him. Thorin smiles as well. He enjoys these little moments in life. After the dragon had taken over Erebor, things have gotten down-hill for them. For years they had to roam, until his grandfather had settled down in Ered Luin. And when Thrain, Thorin's father, had suddenly disappeared, Thorin had taken over leadership of their settlement. So to hear his little nephew laughing is a nice change and it had been the most beautiful sound Thorin had ever heard, Fíli's first laugh.

'I do hope it will be a girl,' Dís says as she puts her son back in her lap. 'Then maybe she can teach this boy some manners.'

'Then I hope it will be a boy,' Gefn laughs as she places a hand on her abdomen. 'For Fíli's sake. Because if it's a girl, and she takes after me, then she will drive the poor lad mad.'

The two friends laugh as Fíli tries to sneak off again, a smirk on his face. The two off them had planned to join their houses after Gefn found out she's with child. It had been their oath since their youth, having grown up as close as sisters.

Thorin smiles again. For now things are good. Everyone he cares about is save here within his sight and for the next few days he has nowhere to be. As Fíli charges at him with his small wooden sword, Thorin wastes no time and plays with the young lad. Even pretending to die as Fíli stabs him, earning a yell of victory from him.

Yes, for now, everything is well.

* * *

But like always good things must come to an end.

One day Gefn had joined some dwarves to go to the market in a village of men. It would be her last for a long time, for the journey would be too burdensome for her pregnancy. But somewhere along their three-day journey they were amused by orcs and that had been the last Thorin had seen of her. She had not returned with the survivors and neither was she with the fallen ones.

The wind is howling outside and Thorin looks at the grey sky in sadness. Three months have passed since the disappearance of Gefn. Three long months already. Her babe would have come any moment now, if she is still alive, though Thorin has lost his hope. He has not spoken to Vigr since her disappearance, nor does he wishes to. Thorin just can not face the dwarf yet.

The sky flashes, followed by the rolling thunder. It is starting to rain and as it falls on Thorin, he can't help but to think about Gefn. She always liked rain. When she was still a dwarfling she would always run outside whenever it was raining. Dís Frerin and Thorin would always laugh at her when the female was dancing in the rain, but she never did care. She just loved to feel the rain on her skin.

And when Gefn had found out she was with child, she had quickly calculated it would have been born during fall. Her favourite season, for that is when the most rain falls. She had smiled brightly, telling Dís she hoped it would come on a rainy day. Mahal could not have blessed her more.

Thorin puts on his coat and walks outside. Today had been his last day in the village of men for work and why linger any longer than necessary? So Thorin walks through the rain. It's not too far from Ered Luin so the weather doesn't bother him. Not even when it starts to come down hard. People all around him quickly run inside, but Thorin doesn't care. He doesn't need to worry about staying dry.

Sure, Dís will scowl at him, and Frerin would have too. But his brother will never scowl at him anymore. For he has passed away too young.

And yet another sad thought enters the dwarfprince's head. Somehow sad thoughts always enter his mind whenever the sky turns grey. He just can't help it. Maybe it's the combination of his past and the sad colour. Or maybe it reminds him about Gefn too much and being alone lets his thoughts wander freely. But whatever it is, he never can hide from those feelings.

As Thorin keeps on walking, he looks up at the sky. The raindrops fall on his face, but he doesn't care. He thinks about Erebor and how everything once had been. The golden light that filled the halls. The sounds of gossiping of the ladies of the court. The laughing of Dís and Gefn and Frerin and he would spar together. Maybe he could drown in the rain? Just so he could return back to those days. Thorin will give anything for that.

As the night is falling, the sky is still grey and the rain is still pouring down. Thorin is soaken wet by now, but still he doesn't care. He doesn't even feel the chilly wind as he enters Thorin's Halls in Ered Luin. Somehow a walk in the rain always makes him feel better.

Sure, it always starts out sad with sad memories. But after a while they always seem to be washed away with the rain and Thorin feels anew. As he walks through the hall he is greeted by Fíli jumping in his arms.

'Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin,' the lad yells enthusiastically.

As Thorin looks at his nephew he knows he will be alright. Someday everything will be back to how it was. He just knows it.

* * *

**A/N**

**So... What do you think? Is it worth another chapter? Just let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

**Wow, only one chapter out and already two reviews! I am honored! Thank you guys! I will not keep you waiting any longer. All I have to say is, enjoy!**

* * *

**Várar**

'Tauriel, we cannot keep her here,' a male says as he glances at a laying form. 'She does not belong here.'

'What would you have us do then?' A female, Tauriel, asks, a hint of anger in he voice. 'Send her away in her condition? She will never survive. It is a long journey back to her home.'

'Father will be furious.'

'She is with child!'

There is a silence between the two as they look at the female before them. She is covered by cuts and bruises, though most of them have almost healed. It is clear she has traveled for at least a couple of weeks before she was found and from the looks of it, she was fleeing from something.

'Is this the dwarf Feren has informed me about?' a new voice asks and both of them look up.

'My lord.'

'Father.'

'My lord,' the female says as she takes a step towards the tall lordship. 'We cannot send her away in her condition. She is with child!'

'Tauriel,' her king says as he raises his hand, while taking a few steps forward. 'I am a cautious king, not a heartless one. She will stay here until she is fit to travel. Until then she will be our guest.' He looks at the dwarrowdam and then at the two elves behind him. 'Her and her child.'

'Yes my lord.'

'It's curious though,' the king says as he turns around again. 'I have never seen a dwarrowdam without her disguise. They actually look like females of other races. Who would have thought?'

Before anyone can say another thing, the female slowly opens her eyes. She coughs a few times as her eyes try to focus. The she-elf, Tauriel hastes to her side, giving her a cup of water, which she gladly accepts. The poor dwarrowdam must have been dehydrated from the looks of it.

'Thank you,' she says quietly, her voice raspy as she slowly turns her head to the elf.

Her bright blue eyes look up to meet the hazel ones of Tauriel and they widen in shock. Her eyes travel the room, spotting the two other elves there as well. One she has seen once before, back at Erebor. King Thranduil.

'Do not fear,' the king says politely as he sees the frightened look in her eyes. 'We mean no harm.'

'Why am I here?'

'My people have found you in my forest. You must have passed from lack of food and drink.'

The female nods slowly, still not at ease.

'Please, my lord,' the dwarrowdam begs as she tries to sit up straight. 'I need to...'

But the moment she sits up, she regrets it as pain soars through her body. A throbbing pain remains in her lower back as she lays down again. She moans in pain and tries to roll on her side. As the pain subsides again, she turns to look at the elves again.

'Legolas,' Thranduil says as he turns to his son. 'Send someone to feed our guest. Tauriel, you are to stay by her side and make sure she has everything she needs.'

'Yes, my lord.'

Then the elvenking turns around and leaves. Legolas follows his father, leaving the two females alone. Tauriel looks at the dwarrowdam with worry in her eyes. She is in bad condition. Dehydrated and malnourished and with her body having to take care of two, she looks even more fragile.

'Thank you,' the dwarrowdam says quietly.

'You should save your strength,' Tauriel says as she gives her the cup of water again. 'You will need it when your child comes.'

'I guess so,' she says as she places a hand on her abdomen with a smile. 'It should not be long before it comes.'

'Will it be your first?'

Tauriel is curious about the female. She has never met a dwarf, let along speak to one. She had always thought them to be loud, proud and ungrateful. At least that is what she has heard from the others. And yet this female is willing to except help from them. Even thanking them. Or maybe it is the situation she is in?

Tauriel thinks about it for a moment as the dwarrowdam takes a few sits from her cup. If Tauriel were to be found by another race, in the same condition, would she not try to stay at their good side?

No, she would probably try to get back home as soon as possible. But then again, she can not quite place herself in that condition. She is still a young elf, being only 550 years old. And she does not posses the bond this mother already has with her child. Would she ever feel such thing with such a small, defenceless creature?

'I will be right back,' Tauriel says as she takes her leave. 'I am going to get you more water.'

* * *

'Gefn,' a voice says from behind her and she turns her head to see Tauriel standing in the doorway. 'You should not be out of bed.'

'I need to stretch my legs,' Gefn says as she waggles around the room. 'Laying in bed all day is driving me mad.'

The she-elf sighs as she makes her way over to the dwarrowdam. A little more than a month has passed and Tauriel has been watching over Gefn during that time. Though still weak, the dwarrowdam has settled in with the elves. Not that she would have a choice. With only a few weeks to go, Gefn is in no state to travel.

As Tauriel places the plate with hot food on the table, Gefn stares ahead of her. Her due date is coming soon. She has told Tauriel it should come during the end of summer and begin fall. Around a feast dwarves call Durin's Day, their new year.

'It is raining outside, isn't it, Tauriel?'

'Yes it is,' the she-elf answers, looking surprised. 'Why do you ask?'

'I love the rain. I can not wait to feel it in my skin again.'

Gefn turns to look at Tauriel with a smile. Then she slowly wakes her way over to the table to sit down. Her ankles are swollen and her babe has dropped. A good sign, for it getting ready. Though that doesn't stop it from kicking and moving around. And somehow it always seems to be active at the most inconvenient moments.

Still, she is glad. It is still something from home. Gefn missed her home. Back at Ered Luin she would have had Dís around to pass the time. And her adorable son Fíli, the sweet thing. She misses her friend. She misses Vigr. Even though their marriage had not started with love, she has grown to love him eventually.

And she misses Thorin as well. The best leader one could ask for, her most trusted friend. After Dís ofcourse. Would they be worried about her? Or maybe they think she has died? It would not surprise her. After all, she could just barely escape the orc-raid. Well, she will surprise them all, when she returns next spring. Her and her babe.

'I can not allow you to go outside, Tauriel tells her as Gefn eats her soup and bread. 'You might get sick. But I can try and see if I can prepare a bath.'

'That would be nice,' Gefn agrees as the she-elf calls out for someone. 'Thank you again, Tauriel. I owe you a lot.'

'You owe me nothing.'

Tauriel smiles at the female. She is glad she can help her where needed. They have gotten good friends in the past few weeks. And now with her pregnancy coming to end, she feels even excited about it. Would it be a boy? Or maybe a girl? Would it be a red-head like her mother? Or maybe it will bare more resemblance to its father? Not that Tauriel would know what the father looks like. Gefn rarely talks about her home, perhaps she is homesick?

'It won't be long now,' Gefn whispers as she rubs her hand over her belly. The child is kicking again, making her whole belly move with it. 'Then I can finally meet you.'

'Do you have any thoughts on a name?' Tauriel asks as she pours in a cup of tea for both of them. 'Does your culture have any traditions concerning naming a child?'

'We usually name our boys after their father,' Gefn explains. 'For example, my husband's name is Vigr, son of Vigo. So if I were to have a son, it will probably be Vigarr. Though it's not really a tradition, more so a habit to honour the father's side.'

'And what about daughters?'

Gefn laughs at the curiosity of the she-elf.

'For our daughters we are free to chose. Usually we use a name that describes the child. Is she feisty, or calm. Or if it is a future we wish for her to have.'

'So you will come up with a name once you have her in your arms.'

Gefn nods. Though she already has a perfect name for a daughter. No matter what she looks like or how she behaves. The name will be perfect for her. But only time will tell if she is having a son or a daughter.

As Gefn enjoys her meal, she thinks about Ered Luin. About Dís. She would be delighted if Gefn would return with a daughter. It had been Dís's idea to combine their houses if it would ever come to that. And after she had given birth to her son, Dís seemed to like the idea even more. For a new royal blood-line would start with her Fíli.

At Gefn's question about a new royal line, Dís only said Thorin would not marry. He had set his eyes on the wrong dwarrowdam and somehow he still can not let her go. But who the lucky dwarrowdam is, Gefn doesn't know. And with Frerin gone, the line will continue with her son.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door and an elf-maid walks in.

'The bath is prepared, as requested, Tauriel.'

* * *

'You seem nervous, my friend,' Tauriel states as she looks at the female.

Gefn has been walking through the halls all day, earning strange looks from the elves. Not only for her behaviour, but for seeing a dwarf as well. She has tried to stay out of their way throughout her stay, but today is different. She feels different.

'I'm not nervous,' Gefn says as she turns to look at the elf. 'I am feeling restless. I think it is the weather.'

Tauriel smiles knowingly as she keeps following the dwarrowdam. To be honest, she will miss Gefn. It's nice to have another red-head around. For there aren't many elves with auburn hair. Most have a pale blond hair, others darker hair. But there are only a hand full with auburn hair. And to have found the same feisty personality in a dwarrowdam is a nice change.

'Perhaps,' Tauriel says as she rounds a corner. 'There is a storm coming.'

'Aye, there is,' Gefn agrees and she stops for a moment. 'The air seems dense.' Then the dwarrowdam turns to look at the taller female. 'Tauriel, can I ask you something?'

'Hm?'

'Don't you get tired watching over me? I mean you have been looking after me ever since I came here.'

Tauriel looks at her friend with a weird look, then she laughs. No, she has not gotten tired of being around Gefn all the time. She has had learned a lot about dwarves and their culture. It intrigues her to learn about other cultures.

'How could I grow tired with you around?' she asks Gefn. 'Every day is a new adventure with you. I have learned a lot from you.'

'I am gla-_ah!_'

Gefn winches as a sharp pain enters her body and she doubles over. For a moment everything seems to disappear around her as the pain gets stronger. She hears Tauriel say something to her, but she can't seem to understand her.

Then the pain subsides again and she stands up straight again. Finally the words Tauriel's lips had formed register in her head and she nods. Yes, she is alright now. Though she wonders what that was just now.

'Perhaps it is better that you return to your chamber.'

Gefn agrees. She has heard of the pain before the birth of a child. Is this the pain they had talked about? Does this means her babe is coming? Gefn smiles a the thought. If so, her wish has come true for her child to be born on a rainy day, for she can hear the thunder outside.

Just as Gefn reaches her chamber, she feels another pain enter her body like a wave. A nagging pain in her lower back. And suddenly she is frightened. Is it going to take long before her babe is born? Will she be ready? Can she raise a child?

Again the pain enters her body. This time even stronger than before. It lingers in her lower back, staying there even longer than before. Gefn begins to pant as the pain becomes stronger with every wave. Is it suppose to be like this?

'Gefn, I am going to call the midwife,' Tauriel tells her as she helps her in the chair. 'You are in labour, and it seems your child is in a hurry. Can you manage on your own for a while?'

Gefn nods her head as the pain subsides again. She watches as Tauriel leaves her chamber, making sure to look back at the dwarrowdam one last time, before the she-elf disappears. Gefn looks around. Maybe she should find herself a distraction, but what? She tries to remember what Dís had done during thee time before her labour.

Dís had done some reading early on, when the pain was not that bad. But Gefn can hardly manage them now and she is only just starting. And it will only become worse with every passing moment?! How will she be able to manage that?

'Ahhh,' Gefn moans as another wave of pain enters her body and she stands up.

She needs to move! She just have to! As she slowly rocks with her hips, the pain seems to be less intense. As Gefn looks around, she notices a piece of cloth laying on the table. That's it! She will go and clean her room! She cannot bare her babe in this room. Not with all that dust everywhere!

Not that there is much dust to be found. And soon Gefn finds herself cleaning the same book over and over again, only to be replaced by a wave of pain. And by the time she has had started cleaning for the third time, Tauriel returns with another she-elf.

The brunette midwife laughs as she sees Gefn, saying something in elvish to the scowling Tauriel. Gefn glares at the she-elf, not liking the fact she doesn't understand what she is saying. But Tauriel suddenly begins to laugh as well as she looks at the female next to her.

'I do not see what if funny,' Gefn says through grinted teeth as another wave of pain enters her body. They seem to come even faster now and linger longer.

'You are cleaning the room,' the midwife says as she walks over to Gefn. 'It is a common thing to see when one is about to labour. It is called nesting.'

'I do not care what it is called!' Gefn hisses at the female as the pain returns. 'I just want this over with!'

Gefn is furious with the female and she doesn't even know why. She has only just entered the room! The elf asks Gefn how long ago the pain has started and Gefn answers truthfully. Then she asks how much time is between each contraction. But before Gefn can answer, her body already answers the question for her.

'I need you to lie down,' the elf orders and Gefn obeys.

She feels her stomach, and then she turns to Tauriel, telling her to get towers and a bowl of hot water. As the said elf leaves, the midwife feels how much dilatation Gefn has and her eyes widen.

'Your child is coming fast,' she tells Gefn as she cleans her hand. 'You are almost fully dilated. I have rarely seen such fast labour.'

Gefn asks if she can sit again, but once she does, she feels warm liquid between her legs. It almost feels like she is pieing and she looks down in panic, afraid to see blood. But to her relief it is clear liquid. It smells funny, sweet even.

'Do not fret, it is your water that has just broke.'

Another contraction follows and Gefn pants, but it doesn't seem to pass. Gefn falls back on bed, panting heavily. She want to be done with this. Why does it hurt so much! She needs to yell at someone, anyone!

'Please, make it stop,' she begs as she rolls on her side. But it doesn't help.

Just as one contraction fades, another takes its place. There is almost no pause between them now. Another feeling enters her body. She needs has the urge to push. No, she needs to push! Right now! But the midwife stops her.

'You need to wait, dear,' she tells Gefn calmly, patting her hand. 'She will be here any moment now.'

'I-I can't,' Gefn gasps. 'It hurts too much!'

'Tell me, how many children do you do you have?'

'N-none. This will be my first!'

Gefn is starting to sweat as she tries to overcome each contraction. They are getting even stronger and the urge to push is getting even greater! Gefn gasps as another contraction follows, just as Tauriel enters the chamber. The midwife wastes no time and calls Tauriel over immediately. She is worried about something, Gefn can hear it in her voice.

'The child is coming too fast,' she hears her say to Tauriel. 'If it goes on like this, it might damage her from the inside.'

'Please,' Gefn begs, grasping the hand of the midwife with her sweaty hand. 'Please, I need to push! Aahh!'

Gefn pants as the pain is getting stronger. She feels something snap as the pain slowly fades again. She doesn't care what the elf is saying to her anymore. She needs to push right _now_! So she does as another contraction comes. She pushes even though the midwife tries to stop her. Gefn can't help it. She can no longer control her body.

The voices slowly start to fade to the background as she pushes again. Then she falls back into the pillow, panting heavily. Another contraction comes and she gathers the strength to push again, and again, and again. She moans in pain. She can no longer take it! She has to stop! She has to go back!

But she doesn't. With one final push, she suddenly hears the cry of a baby. _Her_ baby! The background voices turn back to normal as she feels the small creature is being placed on her stomach. She has no idea how long she has been pushing. All she knows she is that she has her beautiful child.

'Gefn, I have to take her now,' Tauriel says softly as she covers the babe with a blanket. 'She needs to be cleaned up.'

'She?' Gefn asks quietly. 'I have a daughter?'

'Yes,' Tauriel smiles as she holds the child at eye-level. 'And she is a beauty.'

Gefn nods. Yes she is. Her beautiful daughter, her blessing, her oath. Gefn smiles as she reaches her hand out to touch the small hand of the infant. She watches as Tauriel carries away her child. Even as the room begins to spin, she watches the she-elf with the infant. She watches as she lowers her arm, no longer having the strength to hold it out. She watches until everything turns black.

* * *

Tauriel walks towards the great wooden throne, a small bundle in her arms. She looks down at it, to see the sleeping form of a small infant. As young as the child is, her auburn hair is already striking against her pale pink skin.

'My lord Thranduil,' she says as she salutes her king. 'I have come to tell you Gefn has given birth to a daughter last night.'

'Ah, very well,' Thranduil says as his eyes glances at the small bundle. 'And how does the mother fares?'

Tauriel looks down for a moment. The image of Gefn fresh in her mind. The look of utter happiness as she held onto her daughter. A smile no words are worth to describe. Yet Tauriel is overcome by sadness as the child slowly stirs in her arms.

'My lord, Gefn has passed away this morning.'

Thranduil looks up in surprise. He had not thought the female to be so weak still. She had seemed to have regained her strength back. The elvenking stands up from his throne and walks over to Tauriel. His eyes still on the infant.

'How did that happen?'

'She died due to blood-loss,' Tauriel answers sadly. 'The child had not turned. We tried to stop the bleeding, but it was all in vain.'

Thranduil hesitates for a moment. It has been a long time since he had seen an infant. Even Tauriel had not been this young when he had found her and taken her in. Still, he seems to be drawn to the child and he slowly places his hand on her head.

Bright blue eyes slowly open, looking around unfocused. So small, so innocent, so fragile. Without thinking Thranduil takes the infant in his arms, leaving Tauriel staring at him in shock. But he does not see it, or he doesn't care as he turns around and walks over to his throne again.

'Does she have a name?' he asks Tauriel as he sits down with the child in his arms.

'Yes, my lord.'

'Well?'

'Várar,' Tauriel says as she remembers the name Gefn has given her daughter. Várar, as a reminder of an oath she once had made with a dear friend.

* * *

**A/N**

**Wow, this chapter was actually hard to write. But for me it is an important chapter, the introduction of Várar. And concerning Thranduil, I'd like to think he is not as cruel as he is made out to be in the movies. The way I always thought him to be, is a cautious king, which isn't that strange, seeing he is living in a forest with giant spiders! So you will be seeing a diferent side of our elvenking. **

**If you don't like that idea, well, too bad ;)**

**Anyway, feel free to write a review. I love reading them :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

**Wow, thank you guys for your kind reviews! I am glad you liked the first two chapters. I hope you will like this one too.**

**Anyway, I know I told you guys my other story 'Hear Me Calling' will be my main priority, but I have a confession to make. I already have fallen in love with this story and the ideas I have for it.**

* * *

** Unfortunate Events**

Fíli looks at his younger brother. He is trying to hide from his mother by placing his hands before his eyes. Fíli rolls his eyes. So lame. Like their mother wouldn't find him. If Kíli wants to hide, he can at least try and find a good hiding place.

Fíli sighs. Why does his brother have to be so lame? Sometimes he wishes his brother would be more his age. He hopes he had not been like this when he was three. Fíli watches as his mother seems to believe Kíli is gone.

Fíli shakes his head. No, the eight year old really wonders about his younger sibling some times. He can't hide, he can't seek. Fíli can't play with his brother, because he is still too young. And worst of all, Fíli can't even practice his swordplay with him. What use is a brother when you can't even practice your swordplay together?

'Where are my two fine lads?'

Fíli looks up at the sound of his uncle's voice. At least his uncle is awesome! Fíli rushes over to his uncle, glad he has returned home again.

'Uncle Thowin, uncle Thowin,' Kíli yells as he runs over to his uncle as well.

Though the two of them are completely different, with Fíli having inherited his father's blond locks and Kíli taking more after their mother's side, they do have one thing in common. They both adore and admire their uncle. Even at his young age, Fíli already has made up his mind to grow up just like his uncle. His father is alright too. But come on, no one can compare to his uncle!

'Uncle Thorin!' Fíli says as he embraces his uncle. 'Welcome back. Will you be staying for a while now?'

Thorin laughs at his eldest nephew and ruffles up his hair. Children are always so honest and straight to the point. Adults sometimes should look more like them. Thorin stands up straight, both his nephews on his arms as he greets his sister and his brother-in-law.

Yes, he is going to stay here for a while. Word reached him an illness has fallen over his people. An illness that has taken the lives of several of them. And now his in-law Víli has succumb to it as well.

'Yes my dear lad,' Thorin answers the blond lad. 'I am staying here for a while. Someone has to make sure you don't drive your mother mad.'

'Hey, she is the one driving me mad uncle,' Fíli pouts. 'I can do nothing. Father can't come out and play, and she tells me Kíli is still too young to play with me.'

'And a wise mother you have,' Thorin says as he takes a seat. 'Kíli is no match for you, for he has to grow some more. My beard, even _I_ have trouble taking you down.'

Fíli looks at his uncle with pride. Yes, he is _that_ strong. Even the mighty Thorin Oakenshield, their leader who has lead them to victory at the Battle of Azanulbizar. And one day Fíli will succeed him and become even greater than his uncle! Fíli has no doubt about that.

'Now now, my dears,' Dís says as she takes Kíli in her arms. 'Let your uncle be. He has had a long journey behind and he needs to eat. You too, Fíli,' she adds with a stern look at her eldest son.

'Not fair,' he sighs as he jumps of his uncle's lap. 'Whatever should I do? There is nothing to do for me.'

'You could practice with your bow. I am sure your uncle would love to see how much you have improved.'

His eyes brighten up at the idea, agreeing. His eyes fall on his little brother and adds Kíli can't come along. He doesn't want his little brother to walk in his way! Though he does not need to worry, as his mother tells him Kíli is going to take a nap. Fíli smiles and runs over to the hall to grab his bow and quiver. While counting his arrows, Fíli silently thanks Mahal his lame brother still needs his naps. Then he runs outside for target practice.

Thorin watches his nephew leave with a smile, which turns into a frown once the lad shuts the door. He worries about the lad, about both his nephews. With this illness around, anyone dear to him could succumb to it. From what he has heard, Flór, Vigr and even young Jón have already died. No one is save. Elder, younglings, no one.

'How long since the first?' Thorin asks as his sister pours him some ale.

'Jón was the first to go,' Dís tells him. 'Just last week. The lad came down with a fever and a day later the found him dead in his bed. Eir was next. She had not come to the market with us, stating she wasn't feeling well. A few days later she was gone too.'

'How is Víli holding on?'

Dís sighs as she looks at the door that leads to the master bedroom. Víli had gotten home yesterday, all sweaty and feverish. She fears it will not be long before her husband will joining his for-fathers. She can hear his painful moans every now and then.

'He is losing his battle. It will not be long now.'

'And Fíli, does he knows what is going ?'

Dís nods. Though he is still a child, Fíli is old enough to know something is going on. He has seen dwarves die around him. He knows what has killed them. And just this morning he had asked her if his father is going to die. How was she suppose to answer him?

They were glad the epidemic was almost over. Less and less dwarves are sick and they had been relieved it had passed their house. But no house is save. Almost everyone has lost someone dear to them. Why would they be an exception? Because they are royalty? That word means nothing anymore.

They had to leave their royal title back at Erebor. The last king had been their grandfather, Thror. Now they only have a leader, Thorin. His role the same as a king, but without the title. But one day, they will return to Erebor! One day Thorin will lead his people back to their home. One day...

* * *

'Uncle, can you tell us about Erebor again?'

'Yes, pwease?'

Thorin looks at his two nephews. They are sitting outside, while Dís tents to her husband. His fever has gotten worse over night. And now Dís doesn't want her boys to see their father like this. He is to remain their example, a strong and noble dwarf. Not a weak dwarf, crying out in pain.

'I don't know lads,' Thorin says with a smile. 'I have told so many stories, I am afraid I do no longer enjoy telling them anymore.'

Fíli pouts, showing his young, childish nature has not yet left him, while Kíli keeps on begging, pulling the sleeve of his uncle. Thorin tries not to laugh at the scene both lads are making. They are his light in the darker growing world.

He would never grow tired of telling tales about Erebor. He would never grow tired about dreaming of reclaiming it. Neither would Thorin ever forget those memories of Gefn, for she too belongs with his precious memories of Erebor.

But he will not tell those stories, without jesting his nephews. They are easy to fool still, and easy to be excited. And those moodswings they still posses, makes his heart glad. The whining Kíli does when things don't go his way. The way Fíli sulks around when he is denied something he wants.

And ofcourse their laughter, their fooling around. Those moments when Fíli pulls a prank, of when Kíli tries to scare Thorin. Thorin braces himself for the day those two will team up together. Then those two lads will be even more mischievous.

'Uncle, I demand you to tell us about Erebor,' Fíli says as he puffs out his chest. 'If you don't, then I'll... I'll... I will tickle you to death!'

'Oh no, we would not want such thing, do we,' Thorin says with a smirk as Fíli starts his assault.

It doesn't take long before Kíli joins in as well. Even though the lad doesn't quite understand why his brother is tickling their uncle, he finds it amusing enough to team up with his brother. And Thorin lets them, letting them think they have the upper hand.

Kíli screeches in joy as Thorin grabs him and tickles him. Then Fíli jumps on his back, trying to find his uncle's weak spot. While doing so, he misses his uncle's movement and soon finds himself being lifted in the air, with Thorin now tickling him.

With his uncle preoccupied, Kíli takes out his wooden sword, slamming it against Thorin's leg. While laughing, Thorin falls on his back, losing his grip on his eldest nephew. Fíli wastes no time and pulls his wooden sword as well, stabbing and slicing at his uncle as well.

Thorin laughs as his nephews try to overrule him. Fíli sits on his chest, his sword pointed at his uncle's chin, a wicked smile on his face. His blue eyes twinkle, knowing he has won. Though he will never admit his little brother has helped him.

'Do you yield?' Fíli asks and his smile grows even wider as his uncle lifts his hands in surrender. Thorin nods. 'Then you will tell us about Erebor now.'

Fíli climbs of his uncle's chest, allowing him to sit back up, pulling his brother with him. Kíli is such a pain, but at times like these, he is glad he has a younger brother.

'What would you have me tell?'

'About the halls filled with golden light! About how our people found the Arkenstone! About everything!'

By now Fíli is jumping up and down in excitement as his uncle makes himself comfortable.

'Erebor,' Thorin begins, his voice soft and tender as he remembers. 'Our home. Our beautiful home, where the halls always glowed gold by the light of the torches. Where there was always laughter of children. Every day you could smell the freshly baked pastries and bread. I can still smell it when I close my eyes. I can still hear the sounds of the mining dwarves, as they hammer onto the stone walls...'

Thorin closes his eyes. He remembers those times, the memories still fresh on his mind. He remembers the time when he was still a young lad. About ten years of age. He and Frerin had thrown a bucket of water over Gefn, while the six year old was practising her dancing. As a lady of the court she was to participate dancing lessons, just like Thorin was to participate his archery lessons.

Frerin and himself always pulled pranks on Dís and Gefn in their younger years. Why? Because they could and because they were not as strong as them. While Dís usually started crying, Gefn always became angry and followed them all around Erebor, until she could hit one of them. And if she was lucky, she got a chance to hit both of them.

Those were wonderful times. Times Thorin wishes for his nephews as well.

* * *

A child is crying, someone is sobbing and someone is trying to calm down the crying child. Her own voice also about to break. The sky is dark. Clouds are rolling in, promising to release the rain they hold at any time now.

The unknown fever has taken yet another life. Its last victim. Father of two young lads, husband of Dís, brother-in-law of Thorin. Víli.

The dwarf had tried his hardest to fight his losing battle. A whole week he has fought. Longer than any other victim. For a moment Thorin had thought Víli was going to overcome his illness. But alas, the dwarf has perished last night.

Thorin watches his mourning sister and nephews as they place a flower on his grave. Yet another member of his family has been taken. Yet another loved one. Will it ever end? Why does he has to suffer so much? How many of his people will have to suffer?

Rain begins to fall down. Even the sky is mourning for their loss.

'Uncle, can we go home?' Fíli asks as he wipes away his tears. 'I do not want to be here anymore, it hurts too much. But mother doesn't want to leave.'

'I will talk to her,' Thorin says as he watches his sister as she stands near the grave.

He knows Dís will not leave for now, but with the rain, his nephews can not stay here. She is trying hard not to cry, Thorin can tell by the way she is standing. She is trying to stay strong for her boys, but Dís can not stop the tears from falling. Who can blame her? She has just lost her husband, her one.

Thorin walks over to Dís, casting one last look at Fíli. He still needs his father in his life, a role-model. He is still so young. What of his younger brother. His eyes travel to his youngest nephew, the lad now finally calming down a bit. Kíli will never remember the face of his own father. Who will have to teach him the things only a father can teach?

'Dís, the lads are exhausted,' Thorin says as he gently places a hand on her shoulder. 'They are getting cold too. Let me take them home, and you come back when you are ready.'

Dís doesn't reply. Her grieve is still too fresh. So Thorin gently takes Kíli from her, not even sure is his sister had heard him or not. But she lets him take her boy, wrapping her arms around her body once the small body is no longer in them. Kíli looks at his uncle in surprise, but doesn't say anything about it. The lad feels cold to the touch.

'Uncle, me sick too?' he asks unsure.

'No, you're not sick, lad,' Thorin says as he starts walking to their home, Fíli at his side.

Though it makes Thorin wonder about what is going on in his young mind. Does the lad knows why his father has died? Probably not, but at this tender age he can understand a few things, such as his father being sick.

'Uncle, why will mother not come home with us?'

Thorin glances at his eldest nephew. The light-haired lad a spitting image of his late father, with his blond hair and blue eyes.

'Your mother is still sad your father will not be coming home anymore,' Thorin tries to explain. 'She will come home when she is ready.' Fíli looks worried, so Thorin places a hand on the lad his head. 'Don't worry, Fíli,' he adds. 'Your mother will come home.'

Fíli looks at his uncle, not sure whether to believe him or not. But he decides he has no choice but to wait for his mother to return home. He can not afford to lose his mother as well!

* * *

**A/N**

**That's it for today. Let me know what you think of it. Also I am trying not to use '... p.o.v.' anymore. Instead I have tried to write it like this. Let me know if you like it, or if you rather have me write in different point of views.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

**Hi guys,**

**I am sorry for taking so long! I have started a new job, so I had little time to write.**

**Anyway, I wan't to thank everyone that is following this story already. I can't believe there is already 12 of you! And a special thanks to all of you who have left a review. I'm glad you like this story this far.**

**Now let us continue!**

* * *

**My Little Butterfly**

A young child hides behind a pilar, her hands before her mouth to prevent her giggles to be heard. Her bright blue eyes are scanning the aria, sparkling mischievous. Her long auburn hair flowing behind her as she runs over to another pilar.

'Where are you, gwilwileth,' a silvery voice asks as soft footsteps approach the hiding child.

The child muffles another giggle as a tall figure walks around the pilar. She walks around the pilar too, making sure she stays behind the male in front of her. Her footsteps rather loud compared to his almost soundless movements. But she doesn't notice her feet betraying her position as his pointed elven ears pick up the sound. The child is too busy trying to keep up with the male, while staying hidden behind him.

The elf smirks, his bright blue eyes lighten up as he keeps on 'searching' for the child. No matter how hard she tries, he will always find her. Whether it is during a game where his keen hearing can even hear her softest breathing, or whenever she might be in danger where his keen eyesight can spot her auburn hair everywhere.

He cares for the child. Even at her tender age of five, she has already stolen his heart. She had stolen his heart the moment he had laid eyes on the infant she was back then. From the moment she had first looked up at him he had known she would forever have a place in his heart.

The male sits down on the steps with a sigh of faked exasperation. He wonders out loud where the young girl could be, as the child closes in on him. Her footsteps loud, her breathing heavy. But he stays put, not wanting to ruin her joy.

'Gotcha!'

Small arms wrap themselves around his tall frame, as the child screeches in joy. She doesn't notice the tall male fakes his surprise, she is too proud of her accomplishment to notice. Both laugh as she is placed in his lap.

'I scared you, didn't I, Legolas,' the child says with a smirk.

'My heart has leaped in my chest with fright, little gwilwileth,' Legolas agrees, placing his hand on his chest. 'I fear you will scare me to death one day.'

'Don't worry, I will not allow that to happen. I will make you better when that happens.'

'I know you will, Várar.'

Legolas smiles at her naivety, brushing her hair with his fingers. Having grown up with elves, Várar has never witnessed dead. No one has died, only fallen ill. Even Legolas himself has witnessed few dead. The last one has been five-and-a-half years ago, when Gefn had died. So it is no wonder Várar doesn't know what dead really is.

'Will you teach me how I can heal a heart?' Her bright blue eyes meet his pale blue ones. 'I want to help in everything I can.'

'My dear Várar,' Legolas begins as he chuckles. 'No one can teach you how to heal a heart. It is something that comes naturally. And I know you can heal ones heart, you did so with adar (father).'

'Really? I healed ada's (daddy's) heart?'

'Yes, you did. You healed his heart by being just you.'

Várar smiles as she claps in her hands in joy. She is glad she could help her father, he means everything to her. And Legolas and Tauriel too. They always treat her nicely, playing with her when she wants to, fooling around with her. They don't treat her like she is scum like some elves do, though she doesn't know why they do that. Maybe it is because she is still so young? She knows Tauriel is the youngest after her, but the she-elf has already passed the five-hundred, so that means there are no other children around.

'Legolas?'

'Hm?'

'When will my training begin?'

Legolas stops braiding her hair, looking at Várar in surprise. He never really thought about her training, since elflings usually don't start at the age of one-hundred. Sometimes sooner, sometimes later. But that might be, because they are immortal.

But Várar isn't an elfling, she is a dwarfling. Meaning she will not life forever, though she doesn't know that. But she will have to start her training sooner, or perhaps not at all? Legolas doesn't know, he should talk with his father about it.

'You already have dance practice,' Legolas states, trying to avoid answering her. 'And have you not started your music practice yet?'

'Yes, yes,' Várar says with a sigh. 'But I don't want to sit here, dancing or playing the violin. I want action! I want to come with you when you go out hunting spiders!'

'Why would you want that? Those hunting-trips are dangerous if unprepared.'

'Exactly!'

'I will see what I can do,' Legolas says with as sigh, and Várar embraces him in delight.

'Thank you, Legolas,' she says with a smile. 'You are the best brother I could wish for!'

Legolas smiles at the child, telling her he tries to be. Though, he isn't her brother by blood, the child feels as family. At first Legolas had been sceptical when news reached him that his father had adopted a dwarfling. But when Legolas went to see his father and the infant, he knew Várar had stolen his heart.

'My lord, Legolas,' a female voice says from behind them and both look around.

'Tauriel!'

Without a warning Várar jumps off of Legolas' lap, only to jump at the red-head. Tauriel greets the enthusiastic child, patting her head. Then she puts her back on the ground, as she turns to her prince. She tells him they need to leave, as spiders have entered their kingdom again. Then she turns around, patting Várar on her head again – for she is a little out of her element with younglings – making her way to the armoury.

'Legolas, do you have to go?'

'I am afraid so, little one,' Legolas says with a sigh. He hates those hunting-trips. 'Someone has to keep those spiders away.' He winks at the dwarfling, as she sticks out her tongue. 'Show those nasty spiders who reigns these parts, muindor (*dear* brother).'

Legolas lowers himself so he can meet Várar at eye-level, where he places a kiss on her brow.

'I will, muinthel (*dear* sister).' For Legolas will not let any harm befall on his little sister!

* * *

'Ada, ada!'

Várar runs up to the tall and mighty king, smiling brightly. Thranduil turns around just in time to be greeted by a wave of auburn hair. The child has never been far from his side, only when she is playing with Legolas her fiery hair is nowhere to be seen. Though her laughter is always present in his kingdom and it lightens his heart.

'What is it, gwilwileth,' he asks the child with his sweet and silky voice.

'You know it doesn't work like that, ada,' Várar says as she comes to a halt, her hands on her hips. 'You have to guess!'

Thranduil laughs. It is a real joy to have the child around. Whenever she is around, his dark world seems brighter. Her bright spirit lifts his whenever he hears her laugh, when he sees her smile. Though he is fully aware some off his people don't agree with him. They don't feel comfortable with a dwarf around, even if she is just a dwarfling.

But the king pays them no heed. They can whisper all they want, for Várar is his child, his beautiful daughter. Maybe not by blood, but she is by heart.

'I don't know, my dear,' Thranduil says as he sits down on the edge of the fountain. The truth is, he _does_ know. He has talked about it with Legolas, but his little girl doesn't need to know that. So he pretends to think for a moment, before answering. 'Did you find something?

Várar shakes her head.

'Guess again.'

'Have you mastered your new dance-routine?'

Várar wrinkles her nose, shaking her head again.

'I have mastered my routine long ago,' she says, crossing her arms. She likes dancing, but the routines she learns are missing something. They are elegant, yet boring at some times. 'No ada, Legolas told me he will train me!'

'Really?' Thranduil asks as he places his finger on his chin, pondering on the thought. 'But won't that be dangerous?'

Várar shakes her head, telling him she will be able to protect herself. And one day she will join Legolas on his hunting trips. Thranduil laughs, telling her she will need a lot of training, before she can even think of joining such trips. But the child doesn't care. She knows she will succeed one day.

'And what of your music or dancing?' Thranduil asks.

'Don't you worry, I will not forsake those,' Várar says with a smile. 'You know how much I love the sound of the violin. Though not so much when I play.'

Thranduil laughs as Várar wrinkles her nose again. Though Várar is a born dancer, her violin skills are still a little rough. Though that could be, because they have no violin for her short arms. Perhaps she should first settle with the harp?

'Don't worry my sweetling. I know you will master it one day.'

Várar smiles as she sits on the edge of the fountain too. Sitting on her knees, she looks at the water, her face being reflected by it. She sighs as she looks at her reflection. Sometimes she misses to have other children around to play with. It can get a little lonely with those strange stares she sometimes gets.

Sometimes she want to know what is wrong with her. She looks different. She lacks the pointed ears, her eyes are a different colour and there are only a handful with auburn hair. And more than once she wishes her legs would be as long as the others, just so she could keep up with them.

And then there are those whispers. She can hear elves whisper about her. Not all, just a handful, but still enough to make her feel out of place. They talk bad about her, laughing at her clumsiness or things she does not understand.

'Can you show me your routine?' Thranduil asks, noticing her sudden change. 'You said you have mastered it. I would love to see it.'

* * *

The wind moves through the trees, playing with its leaves. The water moves through the stream. A string is pulled, followed by a loud 'thud'. Várar sighs in irritation as her arrow misses its mark, hitting the tree instead. Even after five years of training, she still can't seem to hit mark after mark. Only a few lucky strikes.

'Argh, why can't I do this!'

She releases yet another arrow, this time it closer to its mark, though still not close enough. How come she is a natural when it comes to music and dancing, but she has been practicing for years, just to master hitting a target. Not even mentioning whether she hits the mark or not. Only by accident. And those targets don't even move!

Swords she is better at, but that might be because Thranduil had taught her an elegant way of sword-fighting, almost like a dance. Though not yet flawless, she is getting the hang of it and that pleases her.

But those arrows!

'You are holding your bow wrong,' Legolas says from behind her as Várar releases yet another arrow. 'That is why you are missing your mark. It is not all about hitting your target, you want to kill it.'

'I know, muindor (brother),' Várar says in irritation and she sits down with a sigh. 'But if I hold it any other way, I lose my grip on it.'

Legolas takes her bow, examine it. It is one of the finest they have, and smallest. The bow is flexible, the cord strong. Yet somehow Várar can not shoot with it properly. He gives the bow back to the girl, telling her to stand up. She obeys, though clearly displeased. Legolas watches as she pulls the string without an arrow, doing what he asks her to do.

'Hm,' the tall elf hums. 'It seems that the bow still is to large for you, even after you have grown so much. I could ask is they could make a smaller one. Though I doubt it will help. A smaller bow will not be as accurate as this one, since we do not make our bows that small.'

'Forget it,' Várar says as she drops her bow to the ground. 'I just can not shoot with bow and arrow!'

'You just have to grow just a little more,' Legolas says as he places a hand on her head. 'That's all.'

'I can grow all I can and still I will never grow as tall as you.'

Legolas chuckles as Várar crosses her arms, behaving like a little child. Though, at the age of ten Várar is a child still. Sometimes he forgets she is still a child. She no longer hides behind him, thinking he can't hear her. Nor does she cling to his leg anymore like she did when he had to leave.

'You seem to be obsessed with hight these passed few weeks,' Legolas says, looking at her. 'What is it that bothers you so much?'

'It is nothing,' Várar says, looking away. She knows Legolas will not believe her, he always knows it when something is wrong. But she doesn't want to talk about it.

'Várar, you can't hide it from me.'

Várar turns her back to the fair-haired elf, crossing her arms while doing so. She states there is nothing that bothers her, that she is just tiered. Legolas sees right trough her façade, but doesn't push her. Instead he pulls his sword.

Várar stares at his sword for a moment, not knowing what he is getting at. But when he points at her own sword, she smiles. Finally something fun! So she pulls her own sword and not long after that the area is filled with the sound of steel hitting steel.

Várar blocks a blow, and another one, before striking herself. But Legolas blocks it with ease. He strikes again, but Várar moves out of the wait with the elegance of an elf, ducking as Legolas swings his sword and blocking another strike. He praises her with a smile. She has made progress, but he still needs to hold back. Not that it is a bad thing, for she is just a child and Legolas has centuries of experience.

With one swift motion, Legolas knocks her sword out of her hand. Várar looks at him for a moment, not having expected the move, and he smirks at her. With his sword Legolas signals for her to pick up her sword. She does and they begin sparring again.

This time she last longer, before she loses her footing and trips. With the tip of his sword pointed at her neck, Legolas asks her if she has had enough yet. Sword practice had not been in her schedule for today. But Várar shakes her head and pushes away his sword. Várar would much rather stay here and spar with her brother. She loves being outside. Out here she can feel the wind in her face, she can hear the leaves rustle.

'Well then,' Legolas says as he takes a few steps back. 'Then I suggest you pick up your sword again.'

But before Várar can even move, an elf appears, calling for Legolas. He tells him the king has commanded them to prepare for the feast. Legolas nods, thanking the elf. Then he turns back to Várar again.

'I am sorry, my little gwilwileth,' he apologises. 'This is where your lesson ends for today. I will return in a few days and then we will continue.'

'Why can I not come with you, Legolas?'

Legolas smiles softly, telling her she is still too young to enter the forest. Várar sighs. Every time it is the same story. Every now and then the elves go into the forest to feast for a couple of days. Only a handful leave, but as the prince, Legolas has to attend to them every time, leaving her behind.

Várar knows Legolas means well, but still she is frustrated. She wants to enter the forest, climb the trees. She wants to know what they are doing out there. She wants to know why they are feasting. But most of all, she wants to be free from those whispers.

For every time Legolas is away, the whispers start again. Every time Várar is by herself, she can hear the others talk bad about her. And Várar doesn't know why. Why do those elves say she has no place amongst them? Is she not their princess, daughter of their king Thranduil? Then why do they call her a filthy dwarf? She doesn't even know what a dwarf looks like!

'Promise me you will behave?'

Várar forces a smile as she nods. Yes, she will behave, though she would much rather be with her brother.

* * *

Thranduil is sitting on his throne, listening to Várar as she is playing her violin. Her eyes shine brightly as she dances around. With his chin resting on his hand, the fair king watches her with a smile. He feels at peach, just by watching his daughter having a good time.

Then again, what father wouldn't?

As the music stops, Thranduil claps his hands. Várar smiles at him, taking a bow. Then she places her violin on her shoulder again to start playing another tune.

Thranduil takes a sip of his wine, enjoying the taste of it. In a few weeks Várar will turn eleven. How fast time goes by. He remembers the first time he saw Várar. Less than a day old, a small fragile infant. It had been ages since he had seen an infant, and he had no wish to take care of one that wasn't even of his race.

But still he had been drawn to her, placing his hand on her small head. Thranduil doesn't know why, but the feeling of his hand had somehow awakened the sleeping Várar. He had wanted to pull his hand away, telling Tauriel to send the infant away. But as soon as Várar opened her eyes and looked at him, he know he could't. With just one look and she had captivated him, the great king Thranduil!

And till this day he is glad he had taken he in. He has raised her as his own, he loves her as his own. And anyone who dares to take her away from him, will have to face the wrath of king Thranduil!

Yes, Várar is his little gwilwileth, his butterfly.

* * *

**A/N**

**That's it for today. I hope you liked it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**

**Wow, I am surprised with how many reviews you guys have given me already. Thank you! It realy inspires me to continue writing more.**

**Anyway, here's another chapter for you guys!**

* * *

**Remembering**

Fíli stares ahead, seeing white everywhere. The white fluffy snow covers everything around him. The fields, the trees and even his coat begins to turn white from the snow. His breath forms little clouds as he sighs.

He doesn't really like this season. He doesn't hate it, but winter just makes everything depressing. The days are darker, there is little to hunt – yes they have chickens and sheep, but the dwarfprince much rather hunt for his food – and then there is the freezing air. His hands are cold, his feet are cold, his nose is numb and he doesn't even want to mention his lower zone.

There is a movement to his right and he turns his head to see his younger brother, as the teenager moves through the woods. Kíli has his bow at a ready, signalling Fíli with his head. He has spotted something in the snow. Following his brother's direction, Fíli notices footprints in the snow. They are fresh of a deer.

Fíli smirks. If they are lucky, they won't have chicken tonight.

A bird whistles twice in the distance, and both dwarves look up. Though it had sounded like a bird, both know it is their uncle signalling them he has spotted something. And it had come from where the deer is heading to.

Kíli answers with a chirp. They make their way towards their uncle, their eyes on the look-out for their prey. It doesn't take them long to spot the light-grey coat of their uncle, as the dwarf stand low to the ground.

Something moves in the distance, followed by grunts as the deer searches for food. A large buck. Thorin sends them silent orders with his head and Fíli moves to the right. Kíli moves to the left as Thorin stays low.

The ears of the buck twitch slightly and he looks around. But after seeing no danger, the animal continues with his search for food. Fíli nods at his brother as the animal walks closer to the dark-haired dwarf. It's too far away for Fíli to kill it, but Kíli is close enough to hit it with his arrow.

It happens in a flash. The animal cries out in pain as it hits the ground. The white snow slowly turns red with blood. Birds fly off in distress at the sudden noise, their wings fluttering madly in their haste.

Then there is a silence. The only sound is the crunching of the snow as Fíli walks over to the deer. His uncle and brother doing the same. Kíli is grinning, proud of his kill. Fíli can't blame him though. Today has been his first deer.

'Not bad eh?' Kíli asks as he reaches their prey first. 'A clean shot right through the heart.'

Fíli smirks as his brother removed his arrow from the chest of the animal. His brother is proving to be an exceptional good archer, even if he is just fifteen. Not that Fíli would admit that.

'Not bad, indeed,' Thorin says as he looks the animal over. 'Now we can have something else than chicken tonight.'

'And tomorrow, if you ask me,' Fíli adds. 'He has plenty of meat in him.'

'I don't care how long it will feed us,' Kíli says as he binds the legs. 'I'm starving. So let's hurry up and get back home. I am sure mother is about to start cooking dinner.'

Fíli looks up. The sky is darkening, so they have to hurry. He sighs. This means no deer-meat tonight. For they first have to skin the animal and if Dís is already starting with their meal, she probably has slaughtered a chicken already.

'Well, then I suggest we do not waste time anymore.'

Fíli agrees with his uncle. He has had it with the cold air and is in need of the warmth of the fireplace. Luckily they won't have to travel that far this time. But right now any moment longer in this weather, is a moment too long according to Fíli. So he quickly helps Thorin and Kíli to carry their prey back home.

'Well look at that,' Dís says as they arrive, cold, wet and exhausted. 'You actually found a deer. It has been weeks since you came back with a deer. Last time it had been rabbits.'

Kíli smiles sheepishly, while Fíli sighs. Mother has no faith in them at all. He enters the living-room, longing for warmth. There his nose pick up an pleasant scent. A black cauldron is hanging above the fireplace and both brothers quickly look inside.

Their mother's brew is cooking, filling the room with it pleasant scent. Dís may have little faith in her son's hunting skills, she sure can cook!

* * *

'You seem down, uncle,' Kíli says as he sits down next to the elder dwarf.

Thorin doesn't look up as he watches the sun rise. He mutters an 'I'm fine', but Kíli doesn't seem to believe him. And neither does Fíli as he sits down on his other side.

'I hate to admit it, but mister fat-head-'

'Hey!'

'- is right,' Fíli agrees with his younger brother. 'You always seem down around this time of year. Why is that?'

'It is because around this time of year the dragon had come to Erebor,' a new voice answers and both brothers turn to the white haired dwarf.

Fíli nods. That explains a lot. He has heard the stories of Erebor so many times in his still young life, he can picture it perfectly whenever he closes his eyes. Whenever his uncle is talking about the dwarven kingdom, he uses such detail, even the blind can see it perfectly. The glory it had hold under the reign of Thror, Fíli can see the golden lights in his dreams. But also the stench of the dragon. His uncle has never failed to mention the beast as it had taken over their home.

Balin sits down with a sigh, a cup of ale in his hand. They all have worked hard today, so Fíli can't blame the elder dwarf as he rubs his wrist. Both, him and Thorin are used to this kind of live, but at times as these, Fíli can see a hint of their past in their actions. Not that they can't handle the hard labor. No, they are more than capable. No, it is the longing in their eyes as the sit down after a long day of hard work, their eyes set on something unseen in the distance.

Everyone Fíli knows share the same longing in their eyes. At least, everyone who has ever lived in Erebor. His mother, his uncle, Balin, Dwalin and even Oin and Gloin. They all stare at the distance after a long day.

Fíli doesn't share that feeling. He wishes he did, but he just doesn't. He can't imagine the feeling of something missing, having to miss his _home_, for he was born here at Ered Luin. He doesn't know any better than the live he has here. Same goes for his brother. But he does feel the need to know what he is missing. He wishes he could see the Lonely Mountain one day, in its full glory. But that will only be a dream.

For dragons guard their treasure as long as they live.

'It's a nice evening, isn't it?'

Fíli looks over at Balin, nodding. Aye, a nice evening indeed. With the birds whistling in the trees and the serene view. And the warm summer breeze gently blows, cooling the air for the evening. A pleasant change after such a warm day.

'Aye, and a nice evening for a pipe.'

With that both elder dwarves pull out their pipe, enjoying the evening even more, while the two young princes are left only enjoying the evening with a full belly. With Fíli being twenty-five and Kíli only twenty, both lads are too young to smoke.

'At evenings like these, it takes me back to Erebor,' Balin says softly, enjoying his pipe. 'With the warm wind gently blowing, the sky slowly darkening and a pipe lit.' Balin looks at Thorin, trying to see if he feels the same way, but Thorin smiles slightly and shakes his head. It is then that Balin remembers and laughs. 'I forgot, you were just a wee lad. Too young to smoke a pipe.'

Fíli and Kíli laugh. Their uncle, just a young lad? Now that is hard to imagine. Thorin laughs as well, remembering those good days back at Erebor. Where he was indeed 'just a wee lad' – as Balin had put it just now – and his brains weren't always in his head. Not with Gefn around. No, whenever his eyes would spot her auburn hair, he would do anything to gain her attention. And he always did, though not before making a fool of himself.

Thorin closes his eyes, as he enjoys his pipe. His thoughts wandering off to the deep depths of his memories, remembering every sound, every brick, every face. His heart already longing back for those days.

Frerin had noticed his strange behaviour as well and it did not take his younger brother long to figure out why his brother was acting so strange. Frerin had even suggested Thorin to ask her father for her hand, engaged or not. For Thorin was heir to the throne.

But Thorin had dismissed the thought. He did not want to be some spoiled prince, getting everything he wanted, whenever he wanted it. No, if he were to somehow marry Gefn, it would be because she loved him in return. But she never returned his feelings. Not that Thorin had ever told her about his feelings for her! But she never noticed the hints he had given her.

But it never did stop Frerin to try and get them together, alone. On more than one occasion, Thorin had found himself meeting Gefn 'by accident', set op by Frerin.

Thorin smiles slightly at the thought of his late brother. His brother never did took a hint, the thick-headed dwarf. Frerin was a good dwarf, a strong warrior and died before his time. May he rest in peace, his little brother.

Thorin looks over at his two nephews. They remind him of his younger days with his brother. With Fíli being more level-headed than Kíli, just like Thorin. Always – well, most of the time – thinking ahead, before acting. Weighing down all his options, before making his decision. Just like Thorin is reaching the lad. After all, Fíli is his heir. Unless ofcourse, Thorin will find himself a bride, which is not likely to happen.

Kíli on the other hand, is much more like Frerin. He acts more on his intuition, than his brother, sometimes leading the lad into more trouble than he had hoped for. And not to mention the scowling of his mother. How frightening Dís can be when angered.

'Uncle, are you coming, or what?'

Thorin looks up. He had not noticed to be so deep in thought. Not until his youngest nephew is looking at him. Much to his surprise Balin and Fíli have already left. How long have they been gone? Looking up, Thorin notices the sky is now filled with thousands of flickering lights.

'Aye,' Thorin answers as he stands up. 'I'll be right there.'

* * *

**A/N**

**I'm sorry. I know it isn't much, but I wanted to write just a little more peaceful events, before all the drama and action sets in. Just a little more 'normal' live, before the big adventure, where things will be a lot more serious.**

**Anyway, Thank you for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Words of Wisdom**

'Várar!'

'Gwilwileth, where are you?'

But there is no reply. Legolas looks over at his father, with worry in his eyes. The same worried eyes as his father as voices keep on calling for the said girl. How could this have happened? _Why_ did they let this happen? If they had just told her the truth, Várar would not be missing right now.

'Any sign of her?' Thranduil asks as he spots Tauriel. The she-elf shakes her head, silently telling her king no one has found the missing girl yet. 'Keep looking then!'

Legolas sighs in frustration. A whole day they have searched for Várar and still no trace. Not even an imprint of her feet on the ground. It makes Legolas wonder if she has climbed in the trees. And with the light fading, it will become very difficult to find her. If only the mithrandir had not showed, if he had not spoken with such surprise. His eyes find the wizard with ease, hearing the surprise in his voice again when he had seen Várar.

'I was not aware you had a dwarrowdam living with you, Thranduil,' Gandalf had said, causing Várar to look at him in surprise.

'Excuse me?'

It had not taken the mithrandir long to figure out she hadn't known about her parentage. Even after twenty-five years, no one had ever told the female she wasn't an elf but a dwarf. Ofcourse she had asked Legolas many times why she was still so small. She had asked many times why she was different. But somehow Legolas always ended up not telling her anything. Only saying she was special.

Why?

He doesn't even know why he had never told Várar about her parentage. Or why his father had done the same. Perhaps it had been the fear of her leaving in search of her kin, once she were to find out. And perhaps that is what has happened now. For the last Legolas has seen his little gwilwileth, was when she had stormed off. Upset about what the mithrandir had told her, the truth.

'Perhaps it is best to leave her be for now. She has a lot to take in right now.'

Thranduil turns to the wizard, glaring at him. It is because of Gandalf his child is missing and now he is suggesting to stop searching for her? The nerve!

'You come into my kingdom as a guest,' Thranduil says, his voice as icy as the look he is giving the mithrandir. 'And you have always been welcome. Whether ten years have passed or one-hundred. But you had no right to tell Várar something _I_ was to tell her.'

'And when where you planning on telling her she is a dwarf and not an elf?' Gandalf replies, not phased by the icy look. 'Thranduil, the girl is twenty-five! It is not like she will grow any taller. Would she not find that strange? She might be taller than some dwarves, but she is still a dwarf.'

Thranduil is at a loss for words. The wizard is right, Thranduil will not deny it. But he will not openly admit it either. Right now his main priority is to find Várar. He needs to explain why he had waited so long to tell her about her parentage. Then he will deal with the mithrandir.

So instead of answering Gandalf, Thranduil turns around, commanding his people to keep on searching. And searching they do, until the sun has long set behind the mountains. When the moon lights the night, accompanied by countless stars. But still no sign of the red-head.

As all is quiet, Legolas walks outside. He recognises the tall figure standing at the riverbank as he approaches him. His long pale hair flowing down his back as he stares at the stars. He doesn't even turn around as Legolas walks up to him, though he does speak to Legolas.

'We will find her,' he promises, though Legolas has a feeling Thranduil is saying it more to himself than to Legolas. 'I know we will.'

'I know, father,' Legolas agrees as he stands next to his father.

No more words are spoken, as both elves look at the stars. Their thoughts on the same person, praying for her save return.

* * *

The sun is rising and slowly the forest comes to live again. Slowly the world is warming up again by the sun, a welcome change to the cold night. As birds begin to chirp and fly off and on to built their nests, an elk walks through the trees, his head hold high in pride.

A branch snaps and the animal quickly jumps off to safety as slow footsteps make way through the forest, carefully searching for the path with every step.

'I see you have not left yet,' a voice calls out and Várar looks down from her branch.

Standing below her is the wizard she had met yesterday. The one who had called her a dwarf. She doesn't look at him long, her eyes returning to the open field in front of her. She has never left the forest. Never. She hasn't even come this close to the edge before, not until yesterday. Sure, she knew their kingdom wasn't small, but the actual size of it had never meant much to her. Not until now.

It has taken her a full week to reach the border of the forest, and now that she has reached it, she doesn't know what to do. Trying to find the courage to leave the forest. What will await her when she leaves? Where will she go to? How will she find the right path?

'I am simply enjoying the view,' she says, when she notices the mithrandir hasn't left yet. 'I have never seen the borders of our kingdom.'

'I see. Well I can assure you there are many sightings to be seen. The mountains for example. Some folk live inside those mountains.'

Várar looks down at the grey wizard again. She lets her leg swing down the thick brance, while leaning forward a bit.

'Folk like the dwarves that lived inside the Lonely Mountain?'

'Folk like them indeed,' Gandalf agrees. 'Why don't you come down, child. It makes talking to you a lot easier. You wouldn't want an old man such as myself to hurt his neck, would you?'

Várar chuckles as the wizard looks at her, a fake look of hurt on his face. She can clearly see the man is faking it. The twinkle in his eyes say enough. Soon his lips match his eyes, as a smile forms on his face.

'Now then,' Gandalf says with a wide smile as Várar stands in front of him. 'This is much better, isn't it? So you know about the dwarves from Erebor?'

'Yes. Adar has told me about it. He says their king was a foolish one and let his people to their downfall. Only he forgot to mention I belong to those dwarves as well.'

'I see.' Gandalf nods, a knowing look on his face. His ears have not missed the tone in her voice, nor the way she addressed Thranduil. Neither have his eyes missed the small movement the young dwarrowdam made while talking about the said king. 'And why would he not mention such a important detail?'

Várar shrugs. She hasn't given that much thought. All she could think of the passed few days, if how betrayed she feels. Betrayed by her father, betrayed by her brother. Thinking about it now, does make her wonder. Not that it will matter anymore. She will leave the forest for good, well, in a moment that is.

'Whatever reason he has for keeping my parentage a secret, is his problem,' she finally says as she puts her bag on her shoulder. 'For I do not care. Now, if you'll excuse me. I'll be on my way.'

'Perhaps you could travel with me?' Gandalf suggest as he follows her closer to the edge of the forest. 'I could use some company along the way.'

'Thank you, but I would rather pass. I'd rather not be with strangers. Father says they are dangerous.'

'And a wise father he is,' Gandalf agrees as he stops next to her. 'But the world will be full of strangers. No matter where you will go to. Even if you were to find a dwarf-settlement, they would still be strangers.'

Várar's eyes scan the open field as she listens to to words of the wandering wizard. She hasn't thought about that either. Maybe she should think about her decision a little more thoroughly. Like her father has said many times, the world is a dangerous place.

'Besides, dwarrowdams like you usually do not travel like this,' the wizard continues, causing Várar to look at him in curiosity. What does he mean by that? 'They tend to disguise themselves as their male counterpart. Dressing like them, lowering their voices like them. They even put on fake beards to play the part.'

'Fake beards?'

'Oh yes. A lady such as yourself, no matter what race, traveling all by herself is an easy target for others.'

Várar swallows thickly. Apparently she hasn't really given this any real thought. Maybe she exaggerated a little? Perhaps she should just turn back. Maybe she should let her father explain why he did what he did. She takes a glance over her shoulder.

'I am sure Thranduil meant well by not telling you the truth,' Gandalf says, noticing the change in the girls appearance. 'Perhaps he thought you not to be ready yet, thinking you to be too reckless, hm?'

Várar snorts. Not lady-like at all, but she doesn't care. She reckless? Never! Well, maybe just a little. A little more than just a little. So maybe wizard is right. She is reckless, running away like that. Maybe she wasn't thinking ahead, jumping to conclusions.

'You know, sometimes we hurt the ones we love, _because_ we love them. We want to protect them and shelter them from any harm.' Gandalf looks at the young dwarf next to him. He knows she doesn't want to leave her home. He can see it in her eyes. 'But by doing so, me don't always think of the consequences. And Thranuil loves you, Várar. He really does. He sees you as his own.'

'What would a wandering wizard know about love?'

'I have seen enough kinds of love to recognise it, my dear child. And I say Thranduil loves you.'

Várar looks at the mithrandir. Doubt still in her mind.

'But do I not belong with my own kin?' she asks unsure. 'You said so yourself.'

'Ah, that I did. But that was before I knew the strong connection between you and Thranduil. You do belong with your kin, but maybe not just yet. Maybe someday when the time is right, your paths will cross.'

Várar nods. She can live with that. If she searches her heart, she knows she just can't leave her father or her brother. She belongs with them. At least, for now that is. With a small smile she looks ahead again. For now, she will stay here. For now, _this_ is where she belongs.

'Before you leave, do you have any words of wisdom for me, mithrandir?' Várar asks as she notices the wizard walking away.

'Yes, in fact I have,' Gandalf says as he turns to face her again. 'Love is a curious thing. Sometimes love is even stronger than blood or race.'

With that said, Gandalf turns around, leaving Várar to ponder about his words.

Várar quietly walks trough the halls. Luck is on her side, for she has not been spotted just yet. Not when she sneaked passed the guards, with their watchful eyes. Not that they would noticed her anyway, for she knows how to move passed them. Over the years she has learned to move as quiet as any other elf – or better said 'as the elves', for apparently she isn't one of them.

As Várar turns a corner, she suddenly comes to an halt. Her eyes find the tall king with ease, as he sits on his throne. But as she watches him, she notices Thranduil isn't as proud and tall as usual. Instead he is holding his head between his hands, and it is clear to anyone he is mourning.

But why would he mourn? Is he mourning for her? Várar doesn't understand, for she has only been away for two weeks. She could have returned a little sooner, if she had run all the way back like she did in the end. But she needed some time to think, so Várar had kept a steady pace the first two days.

'Ada?' she whispers quietly as she takes a few steps towards him.

Thranduil looks up immediately, his ears easily picking up the sound of her voice. As their eyes meet, Várar can see the sadness in his eyes. Thranduil stands up, not saying a word and Várar is too afraid to move.

'Várar...'

His voice is hoarse, as he takes in the sight of the small female in front of him. He stands there frozen, before opening his arms. He wants to have he in his arms, having missed her for two weeks. After having worried about her safety for two weeks. He doesn't have to wait long, as Várar runs up to him, tears in her eyes.

'Gwilwileth, you have come back to me.'

'I am sorry, daddy,' Várar says as tears stream down her face. 'I am so sorry! I don't know what I was thinking. I just... I...'

'Shh, it's alright. It's alright, my dear Várar,' Thranduil says as he pats her head. 'You have returned, that is all that matters.'

* * *

Várar stares at the flowing river before her. She watches as the strong stream takes everything it finds along. Small branches, fallen leaves in all sorts of colours. Green, brown, yellow, red. The wind gently plays with her long auburn hair, letting it move in the autumn breeze.

'Tomorrow will be a big day,' the female next to her says and Várar looks at her. 'Tomorrow you will turn fifty. You will finally be of age.'

Várar nods. Yes, tomorrow will be the first day of autumn, her fiftieth birthday. But is not her birthday she is looking forward to. No, tomorrow she will join the feast for the first time. For the first time she is allowed into the forrest, to feast with the others.

Not that there is anything special about the feast. For it is just so everyone can forget about the dark place they are living. And a dark place Mirkwood is, or Eryn Galen as it was called in the old times. Dark creatures now linger in the shadows of the trees, the Giant Spiders being just one of them. So to lighten the mood, king Thranduil lets his people feast every now and then. Just so they can get away from it all.

'Will you be coming?'

'Hm?'

Tauriel looks at the small female, confused. The two of them have become close after Várar had learned the truth about her parentage. Before, she could get along with the dwarrowdam as well, but having to keep the truth from her, Tauriel had tried her hardest not to grow too attached to Várar. Besides, she doesn't really know how to act around children.

But now the smaller red-head knows the truth, and Tauriel has told her many things about her mother. Everyone she knows about Gefn, Tauriel has told Várar. Every drawing the dwarrowdam had made, she has given to Várar. The belong to Gefn's daughter, not to Tauriel. And their time they have spend together, talking about Gefn, has really blossomed their friendship. Especially since Várar has found her rebel side - or dwarvenside as Thraduil calls it - after the incident with the mithrandir twentyfive years ago.

'To the feast at the forest,' Várar adds, seeing the confused look on her friend's face. 'Father is letting me come along for the first time.'

'Then I will be coming as well,' Tauriel says with a smile. 'I would not want to miss your first legal week at the forest.'

The both of them laugh as they stare at the wild water. Várar knows Tauriel knows about the times the young dwarf has sneaked away in the middle of the night. Often following after her, to enjoy the light of the stars, while sitting in the trees.

Várar closes her eyes, enjoying the autumn breeze for just a little longer. She knows she should be practicing, but her bow and arrows can wait for just a little longer.

* * *

**A/N**

**And that is the end of yet another chapter of Nothing I Have Ever Known. I hope you enjoyed it as much as the other chapters (well, I hope you enjoyed them as well). And here we meet the grown up Várar. Just let me know what you think of this chapter and stay tuned for the next one. **

**Until then, my dear readers!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**

**Yay, here is another chapter! From now on, the timelines will collide with eachother, meaning one chapter may contain both Várar and the dwarves. **

**I also want to ask you guys what pairing you would like to see happening in the future. I already have a pairing in mind, but I am just curious.**

**And last but not least, I would like to thank my reviewers for their reviews. Thank you! I am glad you like this story. I am trying really hard to make this story apealing and original, so to know you like it, motivaties me to write more. **

* * *

**A Change in the Air**

Várar stares at the darkening sky as she stands on a thick branch. The stars are shining brightly this night. But it is not the bright stars that has caught her attention this evening. No, there is something in the air that she cannot explain. Something strange.

She pulls the hood of her coat higher, letting it cover her face more as the cold winter wind blows softly. It sends shivers down her spine. It will not be long, before the winter is making place for spring. Only a few days left. The first flowers have started to bloom already, as the days have grown warmer. But the nights still are cold and Várar slightly regrets coming out here.

But it almost seems something is calling out for her. She can feel it in her blood. She can almost hear a voice whispering to her in the wind. And though it seems like a vague whisper, it is combined with a strong feeling she cannot resist. It is that whisper in the wind, that strong feeling something is coming, that has made her come out in the dark.

Her eyes trail down the trees, her home not far below. She can hear the water move beneath her, as it breaks free from its icy prison it had been for the past months. The chattering of elves the only other sound she hears.

'Várar,' a voice calls out for her and she searches through the branches for the person. 'What are you doing up there?'

Várar climbs down a little, to see who is calling out for her. She already knows it is Tauriel, but it doesn't hurt to see her face. So only when she is face to face with the she-elf, she answers her question.

'There is a strange breeze in the air,' Várar says as she jumps down the last branch. 'It almost feels as if something is calling out my name, the voice moving through the wind.' She closes her eyes as the wind softly blows in her face, moving through her hair. 'Something big is about to happen.'

'Indeed there is,' Tauriel agrees. 'That is why you must come with me. The mithrandir has returned and is asking for you.'

'Gandalf has returned?'

Tauriel nods and signals for her to follow her as she turns around. Várar quickly follows her, curious for why the wizard has returned and asked for her. Somehow she has a feeling it has something to do with the change in the air.

* * *

Fíli and Kíli stare at the dark-haired dwarf in disbelieve. How can he be serious? Isn't it their home as well? Aren't they his heirs? He can't forbid them to come along, he just can't!

'Uncle, you cannot be serious,' Kíli says, staring at his uncle. 'I understand why Gimli cannot accompany you, but I don't understand why we can't either. Both of us are of age and capable warriors. You _need_ us to come along.'

'Kíli, I need you here, to take care of our people. _Both_ of you,' Thorin adds, looking at his eldest nephew.

This journey will be a dangerous one, Thorin knows it will be. That is why he will not let his nephews accompany him. But the closer the time comes to leave, the more persistent his nephews become. He understands why they want to come along. They want to help reclaim their homeland. But Thorin cannot risk their royal line. If he is to die, Fíli has to be around as his heir.

'Then let us at least come to the meeting at the Shire,' Fíli suggests. 'That is where you will meet this hobbit, a burglar. By then you will know whether Dain is with us or not. I understand you do not want to risk the Line of Durin to perish, but what harm is in it to be present at that meeting.'

Thorin thinks about it for a moment. To have all three of them present, might persuade the burglar to agree to come along. It will make the journey less dangerous for the lads. Perhaps he should give them a change to prove their worth. But only if they can pass his test. Ofcourse his final decision will depend on the answer of the hobbit.

'Come one, Thorin,' Balin says, looking at Thorin, then back at the lads. 'They could use some adventure. And who knows, perhaps they will learn some responsibility. You and I both know it comes with age and experience. Let them have a little taste of it.'

Thorin looks at the white-haired dwarf, then at his nephews. Balin is right, they _do_ need to learn their responsibility. Fíli more so than Kíli, if he is to be his heir. That is why Thorin has put more effort into training the fair-haired dwarf, than his darker-haired brother. Kíli is next in line after his older brother. So he has less responsibilities than his brother.

'Fine,' Thorin says after a moment of silence. 'But only if your mother gives you her blessing.'

Thorin looks over at the said dwarrowdam, who is cleaning the dishes. But as soon as she is mentioned, she stops with what she is doing. Dís turns around, the knife she was cleaning still in her hand as she points at her two boys.

'You bet I am going to give them my blessing,' she says, a frown on her face. 'They are way to reckless. This will be an excellent moment to work on it. Especially you, Kíli.'

The two young dwarves begin to protest, disagreeing with their mother. Fíli is anything but reckless. Kíli is, but he isn't! He knows his responsibilities. Fíli is about to say something again, only to close his mouth. His mother has given them her blessing. They are going to join uncle to reclaim Erebor!

'I do not need to work on – oof,' Kíli is silenced by his older brother stomping him in the side. With a glare he turns to Fíli, but the looks his older brother is giving him says enough. 'I, er, I mean... I _am_ a little reckless, I guess. Perhaps mother is right. Perhaps this journey will make us less reckless?'

Thorin tries not to smile as his youngest nephew smiles sheepishly at him. He will regret agreeing to let his nephews come along. He just knows it. But deep inside, Thorin also knows he will need them, for when things go bad. He will need their keen eyes and ears. At the young age of seventy-eight and eighty-three, the lads are capable warriors. Strong and fast. But still he fears for their safety.

'Well, it is settled then,' Balin says, clapping his hands. 'You will leave for the meeting tomorrow, the rest of us will leave for the Shire in a week.'

'Aye,' Thorin agrees, then he turns to his nephews. 'But, the both of you will travel together. No one is to guide you to the Shire. If you are to make it in time, you can come along. If you don't, then you will return back home. Am I making myself clear?'

'Aye, uncle,' Kíli says enthusiastically.

'We will not let you down,' Fíli promises.

* * *

'How far along do you think we are?' Kíli wonders, as he scans the area. 'Durin's day will soon be upon us.'

'I don't know, Kíli,' Fíli answers truthfully. 'But the sooner we get there, the better. This place gives me the creeps.'

Kíli agrees. Gandalf had been right about the forest being enchanted. The air has a thick feeling, almost suffocating him. He looks at the other dwarves, as the sleep. The have only spent a in the forest, and he wishes to leave as soon as possible!

Something moves in the distance, though he can not see what it is. Without a fire to light their camp, it is nearly impossible to see anything but the dwarves next to him. The first few days they had tried to built a fire during the night, hoping it would keep away the dark creatures dwelling in the cover of the night. But after three nights, they stopped building a fire. It seems to be drawing those creatures towards them more, than without a fire.

Next to him, Fíli turns his head towards another movement, clutching his sword. There is something in the trees, he just knows it. He can feel the eyes of whatever is watching him. He has felt them from the moment Bofur woke him up for his shift, and even now, when the sun is about to rise, he can still feel those eyes on him.

'Let's wake the others,' he suggests, turning his eyes from the trees. 'The sun is about to rise. Soon we will be able to see again and uncle wants to move as fast as possible.'

Kíli nods and kicks the sleeping form closest to him. A grumbling Gloin turns around, not het ready to wake up. After another kick to his legs, the ginger-haired dwarf growls dangerously at the young prince, daring him to kick him again.

Soon all dwarves are up and ready to go, as the sun is shining above them. But even as the sun is shining brightly in the sky, the forest still lingers in darkness in most places. The light being blocked by the trees. Still there is light enough to see ahead of them.

'Well then, let's get moving,' Balin says as he turns to face the others. 'Bofur, Bifur, Gloin and Nori, your four will carry Bombur during first.'

With a grumpy 'aye', the said dwarves make their way over to the sleeping dwarf, muttering as the lift him up. Why did it have to be the heaviest of them all to have fallen into the enchanted waters? All eyes now on Thorin as he leads the party on. The dark-haired dwarf looks around, feeling the ground with his axe, before determine the way. He calls out to the others to follow him and they are on their way again.

With each step Thorin feels around for the path, wanting to make sure he does not linger from it. But with each step he takes, it gets harder to concentrate. He feels tiered, his head playing games with him. But he continues anyway. He has to lead his people out of this forest!

Something moves in the shadows, the movement too fast to notice. Eyes are watching their every step. He has noticed it from the moment they entered the forest. Insect eyes, predator eyes even curious eyes of innocent creatures. But he can never keep them apart.

'Is there no end to this accursed forest!' Thorin yells out in frustration as they rest for a while.

What time is it even? Is it still morning? Is it afternoon already? He doesn't know. They will need the sun to determine the time, but it nowhere to be seen. His eyes scan the area as the others try to catch their breath. Again he sees something move in the shadows, just ahead of him. Bright blue eyes are looking straight at him, framed by a familiar freckled face with auburn hair.

'Gefn,' he whispers quietly as he stands up.

He rubs his eyes, hoping he isn't seeing things. But as he looks again, the face is gone. Why had it looked so real? He didn't even know he still remembered her face after all those years. But apparently seventy-nine years is not enough to forget her face.

'What was that?' Thorin whispers again, hearing something from the same spot he thought to have seen Gefn. 'This way!'

Voices! He can hear voices! Thorin can hear clearly now as he moves closer and closer. The hobbit is calling out to him, saying something about the path. But Thorin doesn't hear the lad, and neither do the others as thy follow their leader.

Fíli hurries after his uncle. Something has caught his attention as well. Did he hear someone giggle? Really, giggle? Who does that? Not that it matters. Someone – or something – is out there. It could be a trap. Then again, Gandalf _did_ say elves live in this forest. Maybe they have come across some elves!

Only one way to find out!

* * *

Várar watches from a distance as the strange group moves through the forest clumsily. The leader using an axe to stay on the path. A smart choice, but what are they doing in the forest anyway? Who are they? _What_ are they? The more she studies them, the stranger they get.

There are fourteen of them, thirteen off them with beards. Some strange, some funny, a few what could be called normal and one that could hardly be called a beard. The males – she thinks they are male - are walking around heavily, except for the smallest of them all. The smallest is also the strangest, wearing no shoes nor boots as he walks around on his big, hairy feet.

Várar giggles as the watches them rest for a bit. They seem so disorientated! The leader shouts out in frustration. Should she help them? Maybe they are harmless? No! Strangers are dangerous! Even if they are funny to look at. Some even cute for some strange reason. But that is probably because she has never seen someone of a different race, with the exception of Gandalf.

Suddenly she notices the leader is looking straight at her and she is unable to move for a moment, just staring back at him. Only when he rubs his eyes, does she dare to move. Without a second thought, Várar turns around, running away from the strangers. She has stayed too long!

It doesn't take her long to reach her own company of feasting elves as they sing songs and drink some wine and dancing around the fire as the sun is starting to set. She has stayed away for too long indeed. With one last glance over her shoulder, Várar enters the clearing, still a little shaken up by the strangers in the forest, praying they haven't seen her and continue their own way.

One thing is for certain though. She had been right about the change in the air.

* * *

**A/N**

**Well, guys, that's it for now. It is almost midnight here. Anyway, I hope you don't mind me skipping a lot, but I was afraid it might get boring if I were to enlong their meeting any longer. Just let me know what you think of this chapter - or story so far. I love reading your reviews and feedback is welcome as well.**

**I do have one last question before I go. If I were to write a Jack the Giant Slayer story, would you read it?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**

**Wow, this chapter was written very fast. Thank you, suna Akastuna, evenina and mystique999 for your kind words. It has motivated me to write down this chapter even faster. I hope I will not disapoint you guys!**

* * *

**A Stranger Like Me **

'My lady, you cannot go there.' An elf says as she walks towards the throne-room. 'The king has summoned the prison for questioning.'

But she ignores him. As Várar is walking through the hall, she can hear faint voices. One silvery, though with a threatening undertone, she recognises as that of he father. The other voice powerful, but angry, dangerous even. But still she moves closer to where the voices are coming from. She heard one of the strangers has been caught after she was send back home and now she wants to see it for herself.

As she watches the prisoner from her hiding place, recognises him immediately as the leader. His worn clothes covered in dirt, his face showing scratches. He didn't have those earlier, did he? Not that it matters. But what surprises Várar the most, is that he isn't held down by someone as he is talking to her father.

'Why were you and your folk trying to attack my men during their merrymaking?' she hears Thranduil asks as he is looking at the prisoner sternly. 'They did you no harm'

'We did not attack them,' the prisoner answers, clearly not feeling intimidated as the tall elven king circles around him, inspecting him. 'We were starving and lost our way when we came across them. We meant no harm, only help.'

'A _dwarf_ asking an _elf_ for help?' Várar can hear the mocking in her father's voice as he stops in front of the prison. 'I somehow don't believe you, Thorin Oakenshield.' The prisoner, Thorin, looks up in surprise as the king says his name. 'Oh I know who you are. I've seen you when I went to visit your grandfather long ago.'

Várar looks shocked at the discovery that not only the prisoner turns out to be a dwarf, but also a descendant of the king of the Lonely Mountain! That means he might know about her mother! She shifts slightly, positioning herself to get a better look of the dwarf. His clothing is like nothing she has ever seen, like nothing her father nor brother would wear. With his fur-lined blue coat and leather boots.

His face is covered in mutt and grime, like no royalty – nor nobleman for that matter – would ever present himself to others. His bearded face nowhere near the fair face of that of her father. His dark hair thick and greasy, probably due to the lack of bathing.

No, this dwarf is nothing like an elf. He is nothing like Várar has ever seen and he intrigues her with his roughed look. It makes her wonder what he would look like all cleaned up. Would he be called handsome by the standards of dwarves? For she finds the male to be attractive, for a dwarf that is. She always thought them to be much more uglier than the one standing in front of her father.

'Such a sad tragedy that has befallen you and your kin that day,' her father continues, walking away from the dwarf, hands folded on his back. 'I warned your grandfather. I warned him about what his greed would summon. But he did not listen.' As Thranduil reaches his throne, he sits down, looking at the dwarf again. 'Perhaps you and I could see more eye to eye, hm?'

'I am listening.'

'Tell me your true reason for your presence in my kingdom, and I will let you go. You will not be followed and this whole misunderstanding will be forgotten. You have my word.'

But the dwarf scoffs, turning his back on he father. How rude!

'I would not trust _Thranduil_, the great king, to honour his world should the end of all days be upon us!' The dwarf turns around again, pointing accusingly at the said king. His voice raising with every word he says, until he is shouting. 'You lack all honour! I've seen how you treat your friends, your allies, back then. We came to you once. Starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. _You_ turned away from the suffering of _my_ people and the inferno that destroyed us!'

Várar looks up in surprise at the accusing of the dwarf. Her father would never do that! He might be cautious, protective of those dear to him. But he would never turn away from people in need. No matter elf, men or dwarf. She looks at her father, seeing the shocked expression on his face. Would he?

'Imrid amrad ursul!'

Várar winches at the harshness of the native words of the dwarf. Though she doesn't understand what he is saying, judging by the harsh sound to it and look on the dwarf's face, she can only guess it was meant as a treat or an insult.

'Well than,' Thranduil says, his lips a thin line as he chosen his words. 'In that case, you will stay here and rot. And once we find your companions, they will face the same faith.'

With on motion of his hand, guards grab the dwarf and haul him towards the dungeons. The dwarf struggles to get free as he is dragged away. Shouting and yelling at them to let go of him.

'I did not wish for you to have witnessed that, my gwilwileth,' the voice of her father says from right above her and Várar looks up.

Towering above her, is Thranduil, a look of concern in his eyes as he watches the small female shift uncomfortably. Her ears reddened a little for being caught eaves-dropping, before standing up with a cough. His lips twitch slightly in humour at the uneasiness of his daughter, but he quickly suppresses the smile.

'What where you doing here anyway, Várar?'

In the distance she can hear the dwarf shout again, probably cursing in his native tongue and Várar looks over her shoulder in amusement. When she looks back at her father, is is still waiting for her answer. With one eyebrow quirked, Thranduil stares at her, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

'He has quite a mouth, doesn't he, adar?' Várar asks, amused by the dwarf.

'You will find all dwarves all share that trait, my dear,' Thranduil says, his eyes not leaving the small female. 'A trait that you too posses when angered.' He smirks as Várar looks away with a _humph_, crossing her arms over her chest. 'Still you did not answer my question.'

'I heard Legolas had captured one of the strangers I had seen, hearing a rumour it to be a dwarf. So I had to find out myself.'

He thought as much. Even him having raised her as an elf, Várar is and always will be a dwarf. Though the most mannered dwarf he has ever seen. But still she can be strong-headed and persistent. But most of all, she shares the same proud vibe dwarves bare, even when embarrassed.

'I wish your first encounter with dwarves would not be like this,' Thranduil says as he turns with a sigh. 'That foolish dwarf is not a master at first impressions.'

Not that Thranduil had ever intended for her to meet one of he own kind. For he knows her curiosity is now stirred and she will want to know more about dwarves. Perhaps even tempting enough for her to leave him. And that is something Thranduil will not allow to happen.

'Várar,' Thranduil calls after her leaving form. She stops and looks over her shoulder. 'Please stay away from our prisoner. He will cause you more trouble than he is worth.'

* * *

Thorin sighs as he sits in his cell. It has been a long time since he has been summoned by that elven-king. He doesn't even know how long it has been. A day, a week, perhaps even longer? He doesn't know. Time seems to move slowly down here.

As he stares ahead, a somber expression in his eyes, Thorin thinks of his comrades. Are they alright? Has any harm befallen them? Will he even see them again? He doubts that very much. While he is being held prison deep in the dungeon of the Woodland Realm, the others are still out there somewhere. Or better yet, they have left the forest.

Thorin sighs again, as he is weighted down with a heavy feeling of remorse. He has failed his people. He has failed his friends. Why did he think he had any chance to reclaim Erebor anyway? It was doomed to fail from the start.

'I thought the will of a dwarf could never be broken,' a feminine voice states from the darkness, but Thorin doesn't look up. 'But it seems I thought wrong.'

Thorin can hear footsteps approach from the other side of his cell, as the female comes closer. Still Thorin doesn't care. The she-elf is probably send down here to bring him food and drink. And while she is down here, why not mock a lone dwarf?

'I've never seen a dwarf before,' she continues. 'I must say you have made quite an impression. What did you say to my father when he was questioning you, hm?'

'The language of dwarves is only taught to those worthy of it,' Thorin says, as he turns so his back is facing his visitor. 'And the daughter of Thranduil is definitely not worth of such knowledge.'

He can hear her chuckle as she moves even closer.

'Are all dwarves like you?'

'Is this another interrogation?'

Thorin turns around in frustration, as the female chuckles again. Is it not enough to be thrown inside a cell in the deepest dungeon of the elven realm? Can he not be left in peace, even if he is just a prisoner? This spoiled elven princess seems to think not, just like her father.

But as Thorin turns around, his eyes turned up to face the tall elf, he is surprised to see no one. But he just heard... Where did that voice come from? Is he imagining things? Has he been held captive even longer than he thought?

'I think you misunderstand my linage,' the female says, humour clearly in her voice.

Is she mocking him? But still Thorin lowers his eyes, glaring while doing so. But as his eyes spot the female in front of him, he gasps as his eyes widen in shock. Again he is met with the round freckled face and blue eyes. Eyes that have haunted him for years. Lips he has wished to kiss many times.

'Are you alright?' she asks concerned, her brows forming a frown as they look at each other. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'No,' Thorin whispers quietly as she keeps on staring at the female in front of him. 'You are not real. You cannot be real.'

Yet she is standing right in front of him. The flashing light of the torch lighting her face, making shadows dance on her face. Still as youthful as the day she had left, untouched by time it seems.

'Gefn...' he breathes softly.

Thorin moves over to the door that separates them as fast as he can, one hand clutching onto the bars, as he reaches out his other to touch her face. He needs to feel her face. He needs to know if she is real.

But she moves out of his reach quickly, a scared look in her eyes as she lets out a gasp, both out of fear and surprise. Thorin looks at her, surprised by her action. Perhaps she is only a creation of his mind after all. With a sigh he lowers his hand, feeling defeated by the trick his own mind is playing with him.

'You knew my mother.'

It wasn't a question, but a statement, puzzling the dwarf-prince. His mind is racing, trying to figure out what is going on. If the female is real, but she isn't Gefn. Then who is she? Suddenly he is hit by realisation.

'You are Gefn's child!'

He had meant it as a question, but somehow it had come as an exclamation. The young dwarrowdam nods, slowly moving closer again. Thorin examines her, amazed by her resemblance of her mother.

He has so many questions to ask. So many things he needs to know. So many things he has to say. But all he can do, is smile at the female, who is looking at him in return, clearly uncomfortable. And when Thorin finally opens his mouth to speak, only one thing comes out.

'Where have you been?'

* * *

Thorin smiles as he listens to the young dwarrowdam, whom he has learned is called Várar, finding her voice pleasing to the ear. Though he must admit he does not only find her voice pleasing. As a spitting image of her mother, she is also easy on the eye and he finds himself being drawn towards her by he beauty. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever dream on finding himself being attracted by a female again.

Yet here she is, right in front of him, with only prison-bars between them. With the same eyes as Gefn, the same nose and same smile. The lass even has the same built as her late mother. Perhaps Mahal has not forsaken him after all, if he has send a blessing in such beautiful form. Perhaps he could win her heart over, have her as his queen. For a king needs a beautiful queen at his side.

Suddenly her face turns serious, the mischievous glint – the only difference between her mother and her - disappearing from her eyes. And in those few days he has seen her, he has not yet seen her like this. Várar quickly scans the dungeons, in search guards. Not that that would be necessary. He has only seen guards when they bring him food and drink.

'I know why you are here,' she whispers softly, inching her head closer to his. 'You are planning to reclaim the Lonely Mountain.'

Thorin looks at her in shock. How did she find out? And if she knows, does that mean Thranduil knows it as well? Thorin finds himself stumble over his words in surprise, trying to deny her statement.

'Don't worry, I won't tell father-'

'-Stop calling him that!'

'I promise. He doesn't know.' Várar smiles at him as she continues. 'He thinks you are here to rob him.'

Thorin scoffs. Like that foolish elven-king even has anything Thorin would want. He eyes the dwarrowdam for a moment, a faint smile on his features. Well, perhaps there is _one_ thing...

'It is the wizard who told me,' she continues to explain. 'He came to visit me about half a year ago, stating he was going on an important journey. He asked if I would like to come along as well, stating it would be an opportunity to meet my kin. But father – stop being so childish - would not hear of it. But before Gandalf left, he whispered to me to keep an eye on the mountain.'

Thorin smirks. So that wizard was scheming a plan to get her out of here. Perhaps he has thought too low of the the wandering wizard. Then his smirk drops, realising he won't be able to reach the mountain in time if he is to spend more time in here. Várar notices the sudden change and smiles softly.

'Don't worry. I will get you out. We just have to wait for the right opportunity.'

Thorin wants to believe her. Really, he does. But something prevents him from doing so. Even though the lass has spent most of her spare time down here with him, he can tell she is loyal to Thranduil. Like all dwarves, Várar is loyal to a fault when it comes to her father-figure. And while she is disobedient by seeing him, he knows she could never defy Thranduil like that.

'You should come with me,' Thorin states as she hands him a juicy apple, earning a look of surprise from the young female. 'You don't belong here. You belong with your own folk.'

Várar takes a few steps back in shock, not knowing what to say. She knows she belongs with her own folk. But at the same time, she feels like she does belong here. The past few days have been confusing enough. For her to be disobeying her father's command, it is not like her! She has only done so a few times. The only reason she wants to help free the dwarf, is because no innocent person deserves to be locked up.

But to leave her home to join someone she doesn't even know that well? To leave her father behind, just like that? Can she do that? She stares at Thorin, who is looking at her with pleading eyes.

Várar knows she had once almost left her home, true. But that was over fifty years ago and she had been upset. She is a different person now, at least that is what she tries to tell herself. She is no longer that unthoughtful child. She needs to think about this thoroughly. But will she have the time to think this through?

* * *

**A/N**

**So there we are. Várar has finally met a dwarf, Thorin of all dwarves! What will happen now that he has sparked up her curiousity?**

**Anyway, did you like it? Did you not like it? Just let me know. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**

**Alright, I have given much thought about the pairing, and I have seem to have made up my mind (I hope). Though I will not yet share it with you, for it might change. So for now, all I will share, is the pairing will be ThorinxOCxFíli. **

**Why? Because both are equaly awesome! Kíli too, but he's not really a good match for Várar.**

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews you guys. I am glad I have you hanging on every word, sitting on the edge of your chair. **

* * *

**Torn**

Fíli glares at the elves in front of him, as the guide them to wherever they are going to. They have been traveling all night, after being taken prison last night. With his weapons gone, he feels naked and he doesn't like it very much. His eyes find his younger brother, the same look of defeat on his face, as Kíli glares at the elves as well.

Fíli sighs. If he could only reach for his hidden blade, then he could cut the ropes and free them. But with his hands bonded in the front, it will be impossible to reach for his back unseen. Well, then he will have to wait for the right moment.

Behind him Fíli can hear Dwalin yell a train of curses out of frustration as they reach a bridge. Birds fly off, chattering loudly as the leader of the elves crosses the bridge firs, halting in front of what appears to be the entrance of a cave. His eyes shift to something below for a moment, before watching his prisoners cross the bridge along with his men.

As soon as Fíli crosses the bridge, he looks down, curious to see what that elf had seen. His eyes widen a little in fear, as he notices the wild water soaring down the river below. One wrong move, and he will fall down into the water, no doubt falling to his death.

As his eyes follow the river, he spots something laying at the riverbank in the distance. A female – elfling probably since she seems to be small, is relaxing as her feet are moving through the water.

'Keep moving, _dwarf_.'

Before Fíli can even take a better look at the peaceful child, he is pushes forward by an elf. As the are being lead to their cells, Fíli watches every one he passes, hoping to find his uncle. But Thorin is nowhere to be found.

Just as Fíli is about to be pushed into his cell, the elf behind him says something in his own language and pulls something from his coat. His hidden knife! Great, now he is completely stripped from his weapons. Fíli sighs in agitation as he is pushed into his cell.

All around him he can hear those pointy ears speak to each-other in their language as cell-doors are locked. His own comrades curse and yell, some in the common language, some in khuzdul. And is someone ponding against the doors?

'Forget it,' he hears Balin say from one of the other cells. 'There is no leaving this dungeon.'

Fíli sighs. That's it then? This is where their journey ends? No reclaiming of Erebor? Not while is uncle is missing. Not while they are held prison by these pointy ears. His blue eyes linger on the burning torch across his cell, before turning around to face the stone walls of his prison. He can't even see his brother, even though he is next to him. All there is to see, is three walls, and one door.

As Fíli lays down on his stone bed, he can hear the elves leave. After a while the noises of his comrades subside as well, as they probably have noticed their grim situation. The only sound Fíli can hear, is from the bald dwarf a few cells to his right, as Dwalin mutters darkly under his breath.

'Fíli? Fíli, are you awake?'

With a jolt Fíli wakes up as he hears a soft tapping on his left. He frowns, not even remembering to have fallen asleep. Then he turns to the wall where his brother is tapping.

'What is it Kíli?' he asks as he rubs his eyes, his voice equally soft as his brother.

'Can you hear that?'

Fíli concentrates for a moment, listening to whatever his younger brother is hearing, but he hears nothing. What should he even hear? The snoring of some of the dwarves? That's nothing new and probably not what Kíli means.

'Can I hear what?'

'Well, _that_. Someone's coming!'

Now that he mentions it, Fíli can indeed hear faint footsteps approach. Fíli glares at nothing in particular, before turning around to face the walls of his prison. The footsteps get louder, though still faint as the young dwarf-prince sits down, muttering under his breath.

'Great, what do they want from us now?'

The footsteps stop and he can hear the flames of a torch move, lighting his cell just a little. The elf must be standing in front of his cell, or maybe his brother's. Not that it would matter. He refuses to turn around and face this elf. He can handle one elf, armed or unarmed and judging by the footsteps he had heard, there is only one pointy eared scum down here.

'You dwarves cease to amaze me,' he hears the elf – female presumably, though it is hard to tell the difference between male and female – say, an amused undertone in her voice.

Fíli snorts as he lies down on his stone bed, his hands beneath his head. He will pay no heed to their visitor. Kíli on the other hand does, he can hear his brother move inside his own cell. There is a moment of silence, as the youngest prince makes his way to his door, assumingly facing the elf.

'And why do we amaze you?' Kíli asks, his voice dripping of venom, before he lets out a gasp of surprise.

The unexpected sound causes Fíli to sit up straight and turns to the elf in anger. Whatever she did to him, she will pay! But the only problem is, that it is not a tall elf he is seeing. Instead he sees a short figure standing in front of Kíli's cell. Short enough the be an elfling, had she not spoken with a voice of an adult.

'I always thought dwarves to be extremely ugly,' the stranger says as she moves her face closer to his brother's cell. 'At least that is what father always told me. Yet you are not as bad looking as he always made me believed you to be. In fact, you remind me of our other prisoner, Thorin.'

'Thorin? They have uncle in here as well, Kíli!'

The figure turns around at his outburst, now facing him and Fíli's glare turns into a look of surprise. Standing in front of him is definitely not an elf. With her freckled round face and bright blue eyes. Definitely not an elf!

'Your related to Thorin?' she asks surprised, not seeing any resemblance to the said dwarf.

Fíli is about to open his mouth, bit his brother beats him to it, earning the attention of the dwarrowdam. As Fíli makes his way over to the door, his head leaning against to bars to get a better view of the female, he listens as his brother talks to her.

'Listen, you're a dwarf, just like us,' Kíli begins, eyeing the female as well. 'Why are you even with these _elves_?' As Kíli almost hisses out the word _elves_, the female crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow at him. 'You should be on _our_ side.'

'I do not side with criminals,' the female replies as she glances down the dungeon, eyeing each prisoner. Fíli glares at her, so much for their chance of escaping then. 'Nor do I agree with my father for taking innocent travellers as prisoners.'

Or maybe not? Fíli scans the female, trying to figure her out. Who's side is she on? Does she see them as criminals, or as innocent travellers? Why can he not figure out this female? And why is she constantly looking around? Is she... Nervous? Scared even?

Suddenly her head perks up at a door slamming in the distance and she turns around to grab he torch from the holder. Footsteps are approaching, at least two to three sets of footsteps, from what Fíli can tell. Why would those elves scare her, when she is clearly living with them?

'I better go, before father finds out I was down here,' she says with a smile, her eyes showing a hint of mischief as she turns to leave.

So she isn't scared to be down here. Only nervous to be caught.

'Wait!' Fíli calls out for her. He can't help himself. He just needs to know. 'Who are you?'

But it is too late. She is already leaving and he finds himself staring at her leaving form with a soft sigh. Her long fiery locks moving with every step she takes, until she disappears from his sight. Now that was something quite unexpected.

* * *

As Várar stays alert for any sounds, she quickly makes her way over to the armoury. She wants to know about dwarves. She _needs_ to know more about them. Especially since her father has not told her the complete truth. She can see that now, now that she has met Thorin. Perhaps his own judgement of dwarves have let him to tell her only the bad things.

True, dwarves are no elves. Várar has known that ever since Gandalf the Grey had told he about her true identity. It had made her insecure about herself for a long time. For her father had always told her dwarves to be ugly creatures and with her being a dwarf... Well that would make her ugly too. That is what she had believed for five years. Not wanting to believe her father telling her otherwise, nor Legolas. Finding it to be their duty to say such things.

No, it had been Tauriel, who had followed her one night. In the light of the moon, the two talked. Their real conversation ever, for Tauriel never knew how to talk to her back then. Not when Várar was just a child and not when she grew older. Somehow the she-elf always tried to avoid her.

But not that night. That night Tauriel had told her about how she had found her mother. How she was in charge of her mother until she was fit enough to travel again. Tauriel had smiled as she told Várar about the day she was born.

'I had never seen anything more beautiful than that small infant I had in my arms,' Tauriel had said, smiling as she faced Várar. 'You were so innocent, so pure. And even though you may not be as innocent as the day you were born, you are still beautiful. Let no one else tell you anything different. It had been a privilege to have met your mother. And it has been a privilege to have seen you grow up into the beautiful dwarrowdam you are now.'

Várar smiles at the memory. From that day on, the two had gotten closer to each other, a friendship had formed, an unbreakable bond.

'Lady Várar, what are you doing here?'

Várar looks up in surprise, to meet the hazel eyes of Tauriel. By the looks of it, she had been inspecting the weapons of the dwarves, for the hammer she is holding in her hand is like nothing Várar has ever seen.

'Apparently the same as you,' Várar smiles as she moves over to the table. 'And please, don't use my title. We are friends, remember?'

Tauriel smirks as she nods, turning around to face the table as well. Várar lets her eyes travel across the table, inspecting each weapon. They are sorted in a strange way, perhaps by holder, not by category.

'Their weapons are quite different from ours, aren't they?'

Várar nods, agreeing with the tall red-head. She has never seen a hammer or an axe being used as a weapon. Though by the looks of it, it will cause some serious damage if handled by the right person.

Her eyes spot a slingshot and she chuckles. Apparently these dwarves aren't one of the most skilled warriors if that is their weapon of choice.

'Did these all belonged to one dwarf?' Várar asks as she notices a bunch of daggers and other weapons piled up at the end of the table.

'Yes,' Tauriel says, looking at the pile as well. 'They belonged to one of the younger dwarves. The one with a braided moustache.'

'The blond one?' Várar asks surprised. 'How could he carry all those around and still be able to move?'

This time Tauriel chuckles, moving over to Várar. She picks up a hooked dagger of some sort, inspecting it for a moment, before giving it to Várar with a smirk. Várar inspects it as well, swinging it around in her hand to test it.

'What?' Várar asks, as she places the weapon back with the others.

'How did you know it was the blond one I was referring to?' Tauriel asks, her smirk never fading. 'I thought king Thranduil had given you the order to stay away from them.'

'Well, I... I've seen them in the forest during the feast.' That wasn't actually a lie, but it's not the real reason why she had known of whom Tauriel was speaking of.

'You cannot fool me, Várar,' Tauriel says as she looks at the weapons again. 'I know you have been seeing that dark-haired dwarf, making your way down the dungeons. So why would these new dwarves be any different? Don't worry, I will not tell anyone about it.'

She glances at Várar, her smirk gone. Only to be replaced by a look of worry as she turns around to leave. But before she opens, she turns to Várar again, a small smile on her lips, though a fake one.

'Just be careful, Várar,' she warns. 'They might leave you torn with confusion.'

With that said, Tauriel leaves. Várar stares at the door for a moment, before turning her attention back to the weapons in front of her. Tauriel's warning is exactly what she is afraid of. Feeling torn. That is why she wants them out as soon as possible. But how?

* * *

'The others have been captured as well,' Várar states as she sits in front of the door.

'So I heard.'

Várar looks at him with one brow quirked and Thorin instandly knows he has made a mistake by saying that. Judging by the look the young dwarrowdam is giving him, he is not supose to know of the others. But luckily Várar doesn't say anything about it, only giving him a nod.

'One of them says you are his uncle. Though he doesn't really look like you. The darker-haired one seems to look much more like you. And he seems a lot nicer than the blonde one.'

Thorin chuckles a little. It appears Várar has already met his nephews. That must have been quite a sight for them. To see a young dwarrowdam of their age, dressed like an elf. There aren't many dwarrowdams back at Ered Luin. And even less of their age.

'Well, Fíli –the blond one – _is_ my heir, seeing as I have no heir of my own. He has a lot more responsibilities than his brother – the nicer dark-haired one.' Thorin adds with a chuckle as he looks at he confused face.

'What king, or king to be, has no heirs of his own?' Várar asks curiously. 'I thought the darker-haired dwarf to be your son. He looks a lot like you. But those two are in fact brothers? Who would have guessed?'

Thorin nods. He does 't understand it either, how Fíli turned out blond, while the only other blond dwarf in his linage is Víli. But still, he is the next in line, after Thorin. And why are they having such a casual conversation, while he is behind bars? Should they not discuss his escape?

Suddenly Várar moves in closer, her previous fear for him long gone as her face is almost touching the iron bars. Her sudden movement startles Thorin a bit, but still he moves in as well.

'I know a way out for all of you,' she silently whispers. 'But you will need to have a little more patience.'

'I will have all the patience in the world, if that means you can get us out of here.' Thorin whispers softly, looking straight into he blue eyes.

His face only inches away from hers, her scent intoxicating as he looks at her. For Gefn he would do anything. He had waited for over one-hundred years for her. And seeing Várar, reminds him of Gefn.

Thorin can't help but smile a weak smile. This lass reminds him so much of Gefn. If he could just convince her to join him. But in the past days he has been held captive –according to Várar he has been here for ten days-, she has made it very clear she will not betray her father.

'In a few days it will be Mereth-en-Gilith,' Várar continues, her eyes shifting to the ceiling. 'The feast of Starlight. Everyone will be there, so there will be little to no guards around. It should be easy to get the keys unnoticed and free you all.'

Várar takes a step back again, inspecting the dwarf as he lets the information sink in. This is the best she could think of. Though one problem remains, they will have no weapons. But that will be of no concern to her. In a few days, the dwarves will be gone and everything will be as it should be. And she will be back to her old self and not torn between the elves and dwarves. At least, she hopes so...

But what if their paths crossed for a reason? What if she is suppose to leave her family behind to join Thorin? Had Gandalf meant for her to join Thorin on his quest to reclaim the mountain? Had the wizard planned for this meeting all along?

She finds herself looking at the taller dwarf, staring at him as she is struggling with herself. He seems kind enough. But what if this is all pretend, just to get out of here? What would he do to her if she was to join him? Father has warned her many times about dangerous folk. Is he dangerous? Judging by his muscled build, he is indeed a strong warrior, a real threat on the battlefield. But this is no battlefield and she is not his enemy.

Perhaps, she should consider his proposal and join the dwarves? She will have to leave the elves some day, right?

'Something is troubling you.'

'Hm?'

Várar looks at the dwarf in surprise. How does he know that?

'I can see it in your eyes, Várar,' Thorin says as he reaches out his hand to touch her face. 'Tell me what it is.'

But Várar shakes her head, sending him a weak smile. She just needs some air. She just need to leave and think things through. Várar whispers a quiet 'I'm sorry', before turning around and leave. But before she walks up the stairs, she glances over her shoulder, at a surprised Thorin.

'There is one member of your company missing,' she states. 'The one with the funny feet. I don't know where he is, but I have a feeling you do. Somehow he has been contacting you, informing you of things you should have now knowledge off. Tell him what I have told you about the feast.'

With that she leaves. Her hasty footsteps the only thing left to hear as she runs up the stairs. But Thorin doesn't hear her footsteps, as her voice keeps repeating in his head. She knows about Bilbo!

* * *

**A/N**

**And that's it for today. I hope you liked it. Just let me know what you think of this chapter. And with that said, I say;**

**'Until next time, my dear readers!'**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**

**I am so sorry for the wait. It's been a busy month for me so writing had to wait.**

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews, favorites and followers.**

**For the guest that has left a review on chapter 9: That's the whole idea ;) Besides, I don't think Dís would castrate him. She would have his head if she finds out, for Dís knows Várar is promised to another (chapter one;) )**

* * *

**Come With Us**

Fíli lies in his hard bed, as he is looking at the ceiling. He can hear the others trying to break free again, but has given that up. Balin is right, there is no way out. No matter how hard they kick or push against the door, it will not give way. No doubt in his mind these elves have put a spell on them.

He sighs. Perhaps this had been the reason why uncle had not wanted them to come. Thorin had already known about the perils that they would cross, when they left home. What is home anyway? He has been born and raised in Ered Luin, that is his home. Sure, the lonely mountain calls to him, but is it his home? He has never been there. Nor will he ever reach it. Only with some help from the outside, will they be able to escape.

But that female – the dwarrowdam – from the day before. She seems loyal to the elves. Why? Why would an dwarf be loyal to an elf? And why is this dwarrowdam living with these elves anyway? Where does she hail from and how did she end up living here? She doesn't appear the be from Erebor, she is too young to have witnessed that day. No, she appears to be his age, judging from her looks and the playfulness she holds in her eyes.

Fíli breathes heavily through his nose. Why is he thinking of her again? Why is she such a mystery to him? As a prince he is used to getting the answers he wants, but he knows nothing of her. She hasn't even given him her name!

'You seem less bothered about being held prisoner, compared to the others.'

That voice, she's back!

In a blink of an eye, Fíli rushes over to the iron door, seeing the same dwarrowdam as before, standing in front of Kíli's cell. In his haste, Fíli has missed the reply of his brother. But whatever Kíli had said, it seems to amuse her, for a smile spreads across her face.

'Don't waste your breath on an elf, lad,' Bofur says from his cell. 'They aren't worth your time.'

The female shift her eyes down the hall, a strange look in her eyes. It takes a moment for Fíli to figure out she is actually scared. Scared for _them_. It appears the others don't know about her yet. Why else would she be afraid of a couple of dwarves. It's not like they can hurt her, not locked in their cells. Besides, what dwarf would harm a dwarrowdam?

'It appears Kíli isn't talking to an elf, Bofur,' Fíli says with a smirk, his eyes not leaving the female.

'Is the lad already seeing things?'

This time it is Balin. As the others begin to move around in their cells, the female clearly becomes uncomfortable, as her eyes shift from Kíli to Fíli and then down the cells again. Suddenly the whole dungeon is silent for a moment. But only for a moment, before...

'By my beard!'

'That's not an elf-maid.'

'Is that...?'

'... a dwarrowdam, indeed she is.'

Fíli watches as the dwarrowdam's eyes shift down the hallway, watching as the other dwarves. His smirk still plastered on his face as she takes a step back. Serves her right to be sneaking up on them. If she is to come down here, then she should at least make herself known.

But as Fíli watches the female, his smirk slowly fades into a frown as he notices the fear in her eyes. He had not meant to frighten her by his action, het had only meant it as pay-back for her being such a mystery to him.

'I-I have to go,' the dwarrowdam stammers, taking a few steps back.

But before she can turn around, Balin calls out for her. Though Fíli has a feeling she wouldn't have stayed, if the elder dwarf hadn't said something interesting. He had said her name! How does he even know her name?

'You knew my mother?'

'Ah, so she _did_ survive the orc raid,' Balin says as the female – apparently the daughter of some dwarrowdam named Gefn – slowly makes her way to the dwarf, her eyes scanning each and every dwarf she passes by. 'You have to forgive my bluntness, my lady, but I had thought Gefn to have died a long time ago.'

'She did,' the dwarrowdam states, though her eyes do not show the kind of sadness a child would show after losing a parent. 'She died giving birth to me.'

At this, Balin mutters a soft 'I'm sorry for your loss', as the female nods to him. As Fíli watches her, he notices some of her uneasiness around the dwarves, some of her _fear_, slowly fades a little. Still she remains alert to the others, as she continues to talk to Balin.

Not that Fíli is listening intensely anymore. The dwarrowdam being even a greater mystery to him than he had even thought. Who has taken care of her these years? Did these elves take her in? It would explain a lot. But why would an elf take in a dwarfling? That doesn't make any sense!

Why does she has to be such a mystery to him? Fíli hates it!

'And what is your name, dear?' he hears Balin say, making Fíli turn his attention to the dwarrowdam again.

'Várar.'

'Hm, an interesting name indeed.' Fíli can imagine Balin nod his head at as the elder dwarf says this. Or perhaps Balin would stroke his beard in thought? Or even both? 'No doubt your mother's pick?'

The dwarrowdam – Várar – nods her head. She is clearly getting over her fear, that much Fíli can tell as he studies her. Even in the full light of the torches, he can see the change in her eyes as she looks at Balin.

'What does it mean?'

'It means "solemn vow" or "oath" if you like. It seems your mother has named you after a promise she had made.'

The look of surprise does not go unnoticed by the keen blue eyes of the young dwarf prince. He finds the female even more interesting than he had first thought. How big are the odds of a dwarfling being taken in by an elf, being raised as an elf – he can tell that much from her appearance – and to have never seen one of he own race before?

He must admit, it is quiet interesting to have witnessed such a thing. Especially now that the dwarrowdam isn't as big of a mystery to him anymore. True, all he really knows is her name, but there is no doubt about his guess of an elf having raised her. Why else would a dwarf walk the way she does, her footsteps about her soundless as those pointy ears. And her clothes clearly not dwarven-made, but elven-made. As for her hair, clearly elvish.

Fíli turns away from the scene, no longer interested. He knows enough for now. All that is important right now, is for them to escape, along with his uncle.

* * *

'What are you doing down here, Várar?'

The said dwarrowdam stops in her tracks, her eyes widen in shock as she looks at the elf in front of her.

'Adar!'

Thranduil quirks an eyebrow, while crossing his arms over his chest. He is quite disappointed to find Várar down here, while he had told her not to. No doubt in his mind that she has payed that dwarf a visit, judging by the direction she had come from.

Suddenly Várar seems much smaller than usual, her shoulders heavy with guilt. He can see it in her eyes, the guilt of betraying her father.

'Father, I...' she begins, looking at him. 'I had too, father. He knew my mother!'

'Just because someone knows someone dear to you, doesn't make them a good person,' Thranduil says, not hiding the look of betrayal on his face. 'Many know _my_ name, but most of them don't wish me well.'

Várar looks at the ground. She knows he is right. He is always right. But what if he is wrong about these dwarves? What if they mean no harm. She already know why they were traveling through Mirkwood. And with so many riches in the mountain, why would they want to rob her father? That doesn't make sense.

But still, she has betrayed her father, going to Thorin and the others, while he forbade it. She has sneaked down the dungeons of her father many times the past two weeks, only to see a prisoner she doesn't even know. Why had she done that anyway. That is nothing like her! Is her curiosity becoming stronger than her loyalty?

No! It is her right to know more about her race! For it seems there is more to them, than Thranduil has told her about them. True, the seem to be quite a loud race. And by the looks of their weapons, also cruel. But Thorin seems nice. And that darker-haired nephew of him too. The lighter-haired one – Fíli was his name?- might seem a little grumpy, but who wouldn't, when locked up in someone's dungeon?

After a long silence, Várar finally looks at the ground in defeat.

'I am sorry, father,' she whispers quietly, though his sharp ears easily hear her quiet words. 'I should have listened to you.'

Thranduil nods, acknowledging her apologies. Then he gently kneels down on one knee, to meet her at eye-level. His eyes still showing the betrayal he feels, though also the love he holds for the young female.

He knows she did not mean to oppose him. And he can not blame her for wanting to know about her people. But he fears it might have sparked up something inside of her, something that will make her want to leave. But he not yet ready to let her go! She is still so young, well to him she is.

But something tells him, he about to let his child go sooner than he has wanted. For it begins with a little rebellion, disobeying him. But the next move will be her distancing herself from him. And then she will completely leave his side. And for what? To join the grandson of and stubborn dwarfking, driven mad by the dragonsickness?

He simply cannot allow that to happen! And while Thranduil has no prove Thorin is like his grandfather, he has no prove him to be a good dwarf either. And he shall not trust that dwarf his most precious gem.

'My dear,' he says quietly, his voice gentle as he brushes some hair out of her face, before caressing her cheek. 'I only want to protect you from harm. And sometimes it means I have to protect you from yourself.' Thranduil gently places a gentle kiss on her forehead. 'You are so precious to me, Várar. I would not know what to do when I were to lose you.'

'Don't worry, father,' Várar says with a weak smile. 'You will not lose me.'

With that she leaves, not wanting to stay down here any longer. She needs some time for herself, get her thoughts back in order. Besides, tonight will be the feast she has waited for. Only a few hours left, and she will no longer be confused about her feelings any longer.

Still, something inside of her tells a different story.

* * *

Again Várar finds herself sneaking through the lower parts of her home. Why is she even doing this? The lives of some prisoners should be of no concern to her. But still she is here, sneaking through the halls. Though this time not alone.

Behind her is a strange creature named Bilbo Baggings. Apparently he is a hobbit, whatever a hobbit may be. She finds him rather funny-looking, with his big and hairy feet and pointed ears. And he is even smaller than she is. And here she was, thinking dwarves to be the smallest creatures.

'Bilbo, you take this key and take the ones at the end,' Várar whispers as she turns to face the hobbit. 'After everyone is freed, we will make our way down to Thorin. After that, you know which way to go?'

The hobbit nods, taking the key from her, before quietly making his way over to the dwarves. As the dwarves exclaim in surprise and happiness, Várar winches. They are going to get caught if they won't quiet down fast!

'Shhh! There are guards nearby!'

At least someone knows how to use his brain. As the hobbit begins freeing the dwarves, Várar opens the cell-doors as well. The first she frees, is the dark-haired dwarf, who greets her with a smile.

'I knew you would be on our side,' he says as he follows her to the cell of his brother. 'Dwarves stick together, always.'

'Could you just please keep quiet?' Várar whispers to Kíli as she opens yet another cell. 'Father will be furious if he finds out I am helping you.'

'Who is your father anyway?' This time it is the blonde dwarf, Fíli. The curiosity evident in his voice.

'King Thranduil. Now please be quiet!' Várar hisses in frustration as she looks around. 'I rather not be caught freeing my father's prisoners.'

With that said, she continues to free the others, the two princelings following her. She can hear them whisper to each other in surprise at the mentioning of her father, but she doesn't care. She want them out of here as quickly as possible! And these loud creatures aren't making things easy as they move thought the halls. Really, are all dwarves as loud as these ones are? Is _she_ as loud as they are? Várar sure hopes not!

'Várar,' a deep voice says from the shadows as they move closer. 'I was afraid you wouldn't show up.'

'You worry too much, Thorin,' Várar says as she unlocking his cell-door. 'Come on, Bilbo will show you the way out.'

But Thorin doesn't turn to follow the said hobbit. Instead, he takes her hand in his large one, looking her straight in the eye.

'Will you not come with us?'

Várar shakes her head, telling him she needs to return the keys. She doesn't want Elros to be in trouble for losing the keys and letting the prisoners escape. She needs to reach the drunk elf, before he wakes up. So with one last farewell, Várar turns around, praying Bilbo hasn't forgotten the way out.

As Várar runs through the hallways, she keeps out an watchful eye for any guards. But there is none. They are probably still asleep. And this is exactly why Várar had chosen today for the dwarves to escape. As soon as Várar reaches Elros, she places back the keys, making sure the elf doesn't wake up. Then she leaves. But just as she is about to make her way to her chambers, she can hear a horn being blown.

'Oh no,' Várar whispers as she rushes to where the sound had come from.

Something's not right, she can feel it. The closer she get to the exit, the louder the noise of a struggle is heard. She can hear steel hitting steel, but the dwarves have no weapons with them. So what is going on?

It takes her a moment to take in the scene playing. The dwarves are still inside the barrels Várar had told Bilbo about, with the exception of Kíli. For the dark-haired dwarf lies at the ground... Shot by an arrow? And the most hideous creatures attacking both the elves and dwarves. No doubt them to be orcs.

'Várar, get back inside,' she hears Legolas shout as she shoots an orc through the head.

But Várar ignores him. Instead, she grabs her own weapon and start handle out blows at the nearest orc. It takes her a few moment to adjust to the weight of he blade, or better said Fíli's blade – she fell in love with the blade from the moment she had spotted it in the pile of weapons-, but soon she gets the hang of it. Slicing one orc in the abdomen, beheading another, before stabbing one in the gut.

She makes her way over to the dwarves, ducking, stabbing, slicing and jumping out of the way of an orc trying to get her.

'Kíli!' She calls out for the dwarf as an orc approaches him. As Kíli ducks, Várar throws a dagger at the orc, hitting him in between the eyes.

'Thanks,' Kíli manages to say through grinted teeth as he holds onto his injured leg.

'You guys have to leave. Get inside your barrel.'

'Come with us,' the dwarf says as he makes his way over to the edge, limping due to his wound. 'You are one of us.'

But Várar shakes her head. She just can not leave her father behind, especially not now! But Kíli doesn't seem to take no for an answer as he takes her hand. For a moment Várar stares at him in shock. She can see the determination in his eyes as he looks at her, silently waiting for her to react. She knows he will drag her with him if he must, she can see it clearly now.

Why has she not seen his determination before? And why does he want her to come with him so desperately? And why does she feel doubt rise up in her chest again, as it weights down heavily? Perhaps she is ready to leave her father. Perhaps she _should_ take this opportunity?

With a weak smile, Várar takes a step towards him. Ready to jump off the edge, into a barrel that awaits them in the water. But before she can jump, she stops as she feels like someone is watching her. With a jerk, Várar pulls back her hand, before pushing Kíli into the water with a soft 'I'm sorry'.

'Muindor,' Várar whispers as she straightens her back while watching the dwarves drift away in the strong stream.

'You were hesitating,' Legolas says as he stands next to her, though his eyes are not on the dwarves, but on their pursuers. 'Why?'

Várar isn't surprised Legolas saw her hesitating, nor is she surprised to hear the relieve in his voice. For she knows the tall elf-prince loves her like a sister and would miss her dearly if she were to leave. But what _does_ surprise her, is when Legolas pulls her close to him into a warm embrace.

'Thank you for staying,' he whispers as he releases her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. 'Well, I guess we better hurry now, before the orcs can get to them.'

* * *

**A/N**

**And that's it for today. I hope you liked it. Raise your hand if you thought Várar would join our favorite company. For those who thought so, I figured it would be hard for Várar to just leave the man (well, elf) who raised her and join some dwarves she barely knows. Especially for someone as loyal as Várar it would be a hard choice.**

**What will happen next? How will Thranduil react to the news the dwarves have escaped? Will he suspect Várar to have to do something with it? And how will he react to it?**

**And what of Várar? Will she be at peace now the dwarves are no longer in the picture? Or will she be pulled towards her own people? You will have to wait till next time!**

**Anyway, don't forget to review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**

**I'm sorry for taking so long. I try to upload a new chapter every week. But sometimes that isn't possible.**

**Also, Thank you all for your nice reviews. It is good to know people like this story.**

**Well, enough talking, let's get started!**

* * *

**How To Save A Life**

He is furious. He doesn't look like it, but he really is. She can tell by the way he moves. She can see it in his eyes, every time he looks at he. He only looks at her, not saying a word. He doesn't even speak to her. He hasn't spoken to her ever since they had come back with one orc. And from the moment he set his eyes on her, Várar had known her father had figured it out. But he hasn't said a word.

Still, it is not only anger she sees in his eyes. Also disappointment and relieve. It had been that moment when Várar had realised how scared her father had been for her to leave. And who can blame him? For a moment Várar had almost given into Kíli and would have jumped into the river with him, if it had not been for Legolas. And for that, she is thankful for her brother. For is she knows she would have regretted her decision sooner or later.

'You were tracking a company of thirteen dwarves,' she hears Legolas say and Várar turns her attention to him. 'Why?'

The orc smirks, facing Várar, not Legolas, as he speaks. Várar just glares at the creature, disgusted by his presence.

'Not thirteen, not any more.' His voice is the same as his whole appearance, disgusting. 'The young one, the black-haired archer. We stuck him with a Morgul shaft.'

At first, Várar is confused at the mentioning of an archer – all dwarves were unarmed while escaping the realm of her father. Then she realises they must have had some business with these orcs before and she glares at the orc again. Though this time her glare is mixed with worry.

Kíli had been shot, she had seen the wound in his leg when she had made her way over to him. The arrow still in his leg. She is sure he means Kíli to be the black-haired archer. She has seen a few bows between the ceased weapons too.

'The poison's is in his blood. He'll be choking on it soon.'

Várar tries to suppress the gasp that is trying to escape, as he tries to hide her emotions. But how can she, when Kíli is dying? Though she doesn't know him that well, she knows him well enough to know he doesn't deserve to die. No one deserves to die a painful death. She doesn't even wishes for her enemies to suffer!

'Answer the question, filth,' Tauriel sneers at the orc as she notices the look on her friend's face.

The orc responses by speaking in his native language. Várar doesn't understand what he is saying, but she is sure he is insulting Tauriel as he looks at the she-elf. Tauriel whips out her knife, ready to strike their prisoner, as Legolas pushes him a little. With a dangerous tone, he warns the filth not to antagonise her. But the orc just smirks at Tauriel as she glares at him.

'You like killing things, orc?' Tauriel says calmly, though her voice dangerously low. 'You like death? Then let me give it to you!'

As Tauriel rushes forward with her knife, Várar tells her to stop. She needs to know the reason why these orcs are following the dwarves. But Tauriel doesn't listen to her, blinder by her own rage. Only when Thranduil speaks, she obeys, though not heartedly.

_'Enough! Tauriel, leave! Go now.' _Then he turns to Várar. '_You too, Várar. We will talk about the dwarves and your actions later.'_

With a hesitant nod, Várar nods and follows after the hot-headed Tauriel. Behind her she can hear the orc snarl at them and her father telling him he does not care about one dead dwarf. She lowers her eyes in sadness at her father's harsh words. He may not care about a dead dwarf, but Kíli has been the second dwarf she has even spoken to. She somewhat consider him a friend even, having spend a lot of time talking to him or Thorin.

Tauriel mutters some unpleasant words as she walks ahead of Várar, causing the dwarrowdam to look at the taller female. At least one elf cares about the faith of one dwarf. She has seen Tauriel talk to Kíli on the evening of the feast. Várar had seen her when she was looking for Bilbo – the little hobbit had been really difficult to find – when she had spotted the auburn hair of her friend. A gentle smile as she was listening to whatever Kíli had been telling her.

'I am going after them,' Tauriel suddenly announces as she stops and turns to face Várar. 'I cannot allow the king to let the dwarf die. Are you with me, my friend?'

'Father will be furious,' Várar states as she catches up with the she-elf. Surprise clearly visible on her face as she looks up. 'I fear he will not tolerate anything else from me.'

'So you will let him die?' Tauriel asks as she crosses her arms over her chest, an eyebrow quirked up. 'I thought you liked them, is that not why you have set them free?'

Várar looks down in shame. So Tauriel knows it too. She should not be too surprised, for if someone knows Várar thoroughly, it is Tauriel.

'And by doing so Kíli has to pay a high price. I can no longer disobey father. I fear he will never forgive me after what I did today.'

Tauriel turns around again and prepares to leave. But before she does, she looks over her shoulder, looking at Várar. The two red-heads look at each others for a moment, reading each others eyes.

'The Várar I know does not care if her father and king agrees with her or not. She believes in what her heart is telling her, and acts to that.'

With that said, Tauriel walks away, leaving Várar behind. Várar let her words sink in, as she watches the leaving form of her friend. Tauriel is right, she knows she is. But what she did today, is unforgivable. She will be punished for it some way or another. The worst case scenario, she will be banished. And she already knows what her heart is saying. It is shouting for her to help Kíli.

Her father will be furious, of course he will. But he will forgive her in time, right? It's not like he will stay mad at her forever, right? Not when she is saying someone's live? As Várar calls out for Tauriel to wait for her, she starts to run. She will face the consequences for disobeying her father again, when she gets back, hoping her father will understand she had no choice.

* * *

Thorin watches the deep waters of the lake in silence, clearly deep in thought. Still Fíli does not miss the occasional shifting of his uncle's eyes. Though the thick mist prevents them to see anything but the freezing water, Fíli knows his uncle sometimes watches to the place they have fled from. No doubt thinking about that dwarrowdam, Várar.

He knows his uncle dislikes elves and to have one lone dwarrowdam living amongst their enemy, must bother his uncle a lot. Especially if the dwarrowdam at matter is the child of Thorin's childhood friend. At least, according to Balin. But Fíli has a feeling there was more going on between Thorin and the dwarrowdam Balin called Gefn. For Fíli had seen the flicker of his uncle's eyes when Balin had mentioned her.

Yes, Fíli might be young still, and has yet to experience the feeling of love – if he will ever experience it – but Thorin's eyes had betrayed his feelings. His uncle had loved Gefn – Várar's mother. And from what Fíli has heard, Várar looks just like her mother.

As Fíli watches his uncle, he notices the sad expression in his eyes. It must have hurt him to know Várar has stayed behind, daughter of the one he once loved.

'Watch out,' Bofur suddenly cries out, turning Fíli's attention to the hatted dwarf.

The bargeman piles his barge between ancient ruins, ignoring the outburst of the dwarf.

'What are you trying to do?' Thorin asks, glaring at the human. 'Drown us?'

'I was born and bred on these waters, master dwarf,' the man replies calmly as he moves the barge trough the lake. 'If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here.'

'Oh, I have enough of this lippy lakeman,' Dwalin whispers loudly to the others. 'I say we throw him over the side and be done with him.'

Fíli smirks at the comment, his eyes moving to the bargeman, before meeting his brother's eyes. The same look of amusement in his eyes, as he smirks as well. Fíli doesn't like the man and the sight of Dwalin lifting him up to throw him into the cold water, would be an amazing sight to see. But it appears not all of them think it to be amusing, for an angry Bilbo speaks up in frustration.

'Ohh. Bard, his name's Bard.'

Fíli contained himself from rolling his eyes. Who cares what he calls himself. He is annoying and Fíli doesn't like him. He hears Bofur ask the hobbit in surprise, to which Bilbo replies sarcastically.

'Uh, I asked him.'

No longer interested, Fíli turns to his brother. He too has been staring off into the distance every now and then and Fíli is starting to worry. Even with his wound tended, Kíli's leg is still bleeding a little. But that is not what concerns him. Fresh wounds tend to keep on bleeding for a while. Nothing new about that. But his little brother is behaving strangely and _that_ concerns Fíli.

'Are you alright?'

Kíli looks at his older brother, a smile on his face as he leans against a barrel. Though he trying to hide the pain, He cannot fool his brother. But Fíli says nothing as he waits for a reply.

'Of course, why wouldn't I be? It is only a scratch.'

Fíli nods. Admittedly, both of them have had much worse. Still he is not at ease. Something is off, but he can't wind his finger around it. Again Fíli notices the small movement of his brother's brown orbs, shifting back to Mirkwood, then look at his brother again. Both brothers stare at each other for a moment. One trying to figure out what is going on with his brother, the other praying his brother hasn't seen the small movement.

Fíli finds himself looking back to where Mirkwood is – hidden in the thick fog – thinking about what his brother could possibly be thinking about. Only elves and orcs are over there. But if his brother was worried about either of them, Fíli would know. But it is not worry he sees in his brother's eyes. At least not that kind of worry.

And then it hits him.

'You like her.' It is not a question, but a statement as his lips curl up into a smirk. 'You like that dwarrowdam.'

Kíli looks at his brother in surprise. Yes Várar has been on his mind a lot since their escape. But not like that! He worries about her safety, that is all! After all she has betrayed the one she calls father. And yet she has stayed behind to be with the elves she calls her family.

Kíli must admit he admires her for her bravery to stand up for justice. And he shall not deny to say he thinks her to be quite a beauty. But he has set his eyes on another, though she is far beyond his reach.

'You've got it all wrong, brother,' Kíli says, looking his brother straight in the eye. 'I like her, yes. She is nice and she helped us. But I do not fancy her.'

'If you say so, brother,' Fíli says, a smirk still playing in his lips. 'If you say so.'

* * *

Fíli is following his uncle as they walk through the streets of the town. The clothes he wears are too big for him, his armour not as fitting as he had hoped. But at least he has something to give some protection – _some_ protection – as they face the dragon. And with real weapons again, they might stand a chance.

Behind him, Kíli is trying to keep up with them, but his injured leg is preventing him from doing so. But then again, Fíli would have done the same thing. As for all dwarves. A sturdy folk they are, but Fíli would not want to belong to any other folk. Unlike that dwarrowdam from Mirkwood. What _is_ she? A dwarf? An elf? She certainly dresses like an elf. And...

Wait, why is he thinking of her again? She's back at Mirkwood, where she belongs. With the elves that raised her. But does she? Should she not be with her own folk? With dwarves? And why did she choose to stay with them anyway? Did Kíli not over her to go with them? To be with her own kind?

'You do know we're one short,' Fíli hears Bilbo say and he looks at the hobbit. 'Where's Bofur?'

Fíli hadn't noticed this before, but now that the hobbit mentions it... Where _is_ Bofur? Did the bloody dwarf drink too much last night? How can he miss such an important day?

'If he's not here, we leave him behind.'

'We have to, if we're to find the door before nightfall. We can risk no more delays.'

Fíli has to agree with his uncle and Balin on this one. Durins Day is tomorrow. If they want to reach the hidden door in time, then nothing must delay them. Bofur will understand, right? Besides, it's not like they will leave him behind for good. When the dragon is slain, they will send someone for him.

'Not you,' Fíli hears his uncle say. 'We must travel with speed and you will slow us down.'

Upon hearing this, Fíli turns to look at his uncle, to see him talking to Kíli. His brother smiles as he replies. Probably thinking Thorin is joking.

'What are you talking about? I'm coming with you.'

With one simple word, Kíli's smile drops. The hope in his eyes leave, only to be replaced by desperation. All with just one simple 'no' from Thorin.

'I'm going to be there when that door is opened,' Kíli says, as he looks at Thorin. 'When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin.'

But the older dwarf will not hear it. In fear of missing the one chance to open the hidden door. But also in fear of losing his youngest nephew. The last part of their journey will be the most difficult one, for they must not only search for something unseen. But they must enter Erebor while that cursed fire-drake still dwells down the halls.

'Kili,' Thorin begins as he places his hand on the younger dwarf his shoulder. 'Stay here. Rest. Join us when you're healed.'

He smiles at his nephew, but Kíli looks shocked at his words, a hint of betrayal in his eyes. Then he turns away. As Thorin turns to the boat, Oin gets out, stating his duty lies with the wounded.

'Uncle,' Fíli says as he stands up to face the said dwarf. 'We grew up on tales of the mountain. Tales you told us. You can't take that away from him!'

'Fíli...'

But Fíli will not give in so easily. His brother will come along, no matter what! Or else neither of them will go.

'I will carry him, if I must!'

But Thorin will not listen. The dwarf must think of his mission, his quest. And right now, Kíli will slow him down. He loves his nephew, both of them. But time is short and they must cover a lot of ground still.

'One day you will be king and you will understand,' Thorin tries to explain as the others continue loading the boat. 'I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf. Not even my own kin.'

Fíli looks down in defeat. His uncle is right, he know he is. But that doesn't mean Fíli is content with it. He casts a look at his younger sibling, who is being checked up by Oin. Then Fíli steps out of the boat. He knows where he is needed most, and that is with his brother. Not with the company.

'Fíli, don't be a fool,' Thorin says, trying to stop his eldest nephew. 'You belong with the company.'

But Fíli has to disagree.

'I belong with my brother.'

With that said, Fíli pulls himself away from his uncle to join Kíli and Oin. As the last things are loaded, the company prepares to leave, while the people of Laketown play some music. Two pair of blue eyes meet, as Fíli watches his uncle. He is disappointed to know he will miss this crucial moment of their long journey. But he will not leave his brother behind. The bond of siblings being stronger than the bond of a company.

Thorin nods at him, a silent goodbye, or perhaps a farewell. Fíli returns the gesture, before Bufor shows up next to him. The dwarf first looks at the boat in sadness, then notices the other three dwarves and asks if they have missed the boat as well. But before any of them can answer, Kíli moans in pain and begins to fall over.

'Kíli?' The blonde dwarf asks in surprise, catching his brother. 'Kíli!'

* * *

_'This way!'_

Várar leads the way as she heads towards where she has seen the dwarves head to. But her brother doesn't bother. His eyes are trained on the orcs that move over the roofs. And Tauriel follows him as well. So Várar takes one last glance to where she had seen a dwarf, to follow her older sibling.

What else can she do? If she were to come across the orcs by herself, she might not be able to defend herself. Besides, she has seen one dwarf, that doesn't mean they are all at the same place.

Suddenly she can hear someone scream and Várar quickens her pace, running after the two elves. Orcs have invaded a house, where she can hear two girls screaming. Tauriel is the first to arrive, soon followed by Legolas.

'Get down,' Várar yells, before throwing her dagger at an orc.

'Thanks,' Fíli – or was it Kíli – says as the blonde dwarf stands up straight again and looks at her. Then he looks at the dagger she had just thrown at the orc's head. 'I see you've brought my weapons along.'

'I think now is not the time for chitchat,' Várar says as she stabs another orc. 'And a little help would be welcome...'

As she struggles to keep an orc away, Fíli – or Kíli, she really needs to remember who is who – takes his dagger from the dead orc. With one swift motion he kills the orc, letting it drop to the ground.

On the other side of the room, Várar hears someone hiss in pain and she turns to see the brother on the ground, clutching his leg. An orc approaches him, but Tauriel kills it with ease. The house is now almost cleared of orcs. That handful that are still breathing, taking their leave quickly, after their leader calls out for them.

'You killed them all,' a human boy says in amazement, looking at the three newcomers.

'There are others,' Legolas replies, looking out of the window. 'Várar, Tauriel, come.'

But neither female moves as the elven prince strikes toward the door. They look at each other, hesitating on what to do. Tauriel's hazel eyes then move to Legolas, as the blue orbs of Várar move to the weak dwarf on the ground.

'We're losing him!' Oin says as he examines him.

'Várar?' Legolas asks, looking at the smaller female, but she shakes her head. She will not leave a dieing dwarf, while she might help him. Legolas nods sadly at her, understanding. Then he turns to Tauriel. 'Tauriel.'

He looks at her for a moment, then walks out the door, expecting the auburn-haired she-elf to follow him. And she is about to follow her prince, but Várar stops her.

'He needs _athelas_,' she tells her friend and Tauriel looks at Kíli again.

The dwarf moans in pain, as sweat drips from his brow. The dwarrowdam is right, but where do they find it in this town? Suddenly Tauriel hears a noise and she grabs her dagger, ready to kill the orc.

But to her surprise, she sees another dwarf running up the stairs. In his hands the here they need to heal the wounded dwarf. Without hesitation, she takes the leaves from his grasp and whispers '_athelas_', as she turns around.

* * *

**A/N**

**Well, that's it for now. Hope you liked it. The battle is coming closer and closer. But what will be the outcome? Who will die and who will survive? Only one way to find out.**

**Anyway, leave a review to tell me what you think of this chapter, or the story so far.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**

**I am so sorry for the long wait. I have been really busy the passed few weeks. During that time my stepmother has been in the hospital with high fever, I had to work extra shifts because of new clients AND my daughter turned 3 last Sunday. And those are just a few of the things that had prevented me from writing.**

**Anyway, I'm back again!**

* * *

**Terror in the Skies**

Várar washes and tears apart the kingsfoil, preparing the medicine as Tauriel does the same. The sooner the have prepared it, the soon the can start to heal Kíli. That is, if they still have enough time.

Next to her, one of the human girls cleans the table as Fíli, Oin and Bofur pick up a moaning Kíli. They lay him on the table and try to hold him down. But the dwarf-prince is tressing around in pain a lot. His moaning turning to yelling every now and then, his breathing sometimes turning into soundless gasps.

Várar has seen it before, with dieing animals. The breathing of a dieing creature. They are running out of time, she realises! A quick glance at the she-elf next to her, Várar knows the other female has noticed it too.

'Hold him down,' she tells the dwarves as she takes a cloth and start washing the wound.

The wound looks black and festered and Várar looks at Tauriel in worry. She is glad the she-elf has stayed. Even though Várar has learned the magic of elves, hers is much weaker than an elf's.

Tauriel approaches with the bowl of water and athelas. Without a second glance at the wound, Tauriel kneads the soaked athelas in her hand and Várar does the same. Normally one elf would be enough for healing wounds. But seeing as Kíli is on the brink of death, they have a better chance with the two of them.

As both of them begin to chant, they press the kingsfoil into the dwarf's wound. A painful hiss comes from the dark-haired dwarf as they do this, his ears not even hearing their synchronised chanting.

But Fíli does, as he stares at the two females in amazement. It is clear he is intrigued by the Sindarin speaking dwarrowdam. Even though it is known dwarves would much rather learn the elvish tongue than to learn outsiders their secret language, Fíli has never met a dwarf to actually speak elvish.

'Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth (may the blessing that was given to me be sent from me to him, may he be releases from death),' Várar says as she watches Kíli screams and thrashes in pain.

She continues her chanting as the two human girls help hold down the strong dwarf as well. Slowly Kíli begins to calm down. His brow sweaty as he looks above him with glassy eyes. At first he stares at the ceiling, but slowly his eyes turn to Tauriel, staring at her with his glassy eyes.

It is a sign for Várar that the worst is over, he will live. Her eyes turn to meet the blue eyes of Fíli and their gaze hold for a moment. Fíli being too proud to look away while caught staring, continues to stare at the dwarrowdam, waiting for her to speak. But when she only nods, he understands her silent message. His brother will be all right.

With a weak smile, Fíli nods back. A silent thank you is all he can offer her right now, for he is still to amazed and frightened at the same time. If those two hadn't come in time, his brother would have died! They could have left Kíli there to die, but they didn't. They disobeyed their leader and helped their enemy. At least, that is what they are for eachother, aren't they?

Well, at least Várar and her elven companion aren't, and for that Fíli is grateful. His eyes travel to his younger sibling. Kíli has closed his eyes and probably sleeping, judging by the soft rising and falling of his chest. Though his face isn't as peaceful as it usually is, it is clear Kíli has little to no pain.

A movement catches his eyes and he spots Várar washing her hands and her face. It is only then, that Fíli notices the dried orc blood on her face and clothes. Next to her stands Oin. His trumpet lowered as he talks to her in amazement.

'I have heard tales of the wonders off elven medicine,' he says to her as he glances back to where Kíli lies. 'But I never imagined seeing it being used by a dwarrowdam. I must say, it was a privilege to have witnessed.'

Várar nods at this comment, still trying to remove the blood from her face.

'But I must ask,' the grey dwarf continues. 'How is it a dwarrowdam like you can even use elven magic?'

At this, Várar looks up at the dwarf. It appears dwarves know as little about elves as she knows about dwarves. She smiles softly as she looks at the confused dwarf, then turns her gaze towards Kíli. Her eyes cross the gaze of Fíli for a moment, before looking at Tauriel as she wraps Kíli's leg.

'Elven magic can be used by everyone,' she explains. 'Elves, men and dwarves alike. All that speak our language, can use it. Though it is stronger when used by elves.'

Oin looks at the youngest dwarf, as Kíli slowly opens his eyes. He whispers something as he sees Tauriel, causing the she-elf to look at him in confusion.

'Well, as a healer I could use someone as you as my apprentice,' Várar hears the elder dwarf say and she looks at him. 'Once we have reclaimed the mountain, I mean. Do cannot mean to stay with the elves your whole life, do you?'

Shocked by the boldness of Oin, Várar begins to stammer. She did not expect him to be so bold. Not that she knows him that well, but the elder are supposed to be the polite ones, acting as a role-model for the youngsters. That is how it is with the elves. And his bluntness makes her feel slightly uncomfortable,

'Oin, I think you might want to take a closer look at what the she-elf is doing,' Fíli says as he moves over towards the pair. 'You might learn something new.'

Oin looks at Fíli for a moment, but when the dwarf-prince stands tall against the smaller dwarf, with his brow quirked in a demanding way, Oin walks away, muttering about 'these lads now a days'. But he does walk over to Tauriel to see what she is doing. Next to her, Várar hears someone clear his throath.

'I'm sorry about that,' Fíli says as he takes a quick glance at Várar, before looking at his brother again. 'I had the feeling Oin was going out of line with his question.'

* * *

Everything is quiet, everything is dark. No sound is heard. Only the heavy breathing of the dwarves as they move as quietly as possible through the mountain. They have lost Smaug, for now, but that serpent is around somewhere. Thorin can hear him move around heavily through the halls, the sounds echoing through the air.

'Shh, shh,' Thorin says quietly to his company as he quiets the group.

Then he peers around the edge of the tunnel, looking for any sign of the fire drake. Behind him, his companions start to whisper when they see no sign of Smaug. Dori states they have lost him, while Dwalin disagrees. Smaug is too cunning, according to the bald warrior and Thorin had to agree with his friend.

'So, where to now?'

'The western guardroom,' Thorin answers, not looking at the hobbit. 'There may be a way out.'

'It's too high. There's no chance that way.'

But Thorin shakes his head, saying it is their only chance. It is because of Thorin, that they are in this mess. And now Thorin has to give his all to keep them all save. And right now, the westen guardroom is their best shot. They _have_ to try.

So with Thorin leading the way, they tiptoe across the bridge. Everyone alert for any sign of the dragon. They are vulnerable right now for Smaug's flames, being here in the open. Thorin is fully aware of it. But the sooner they cross the bridge, the sooner they will find a way out.

Suddenly a coin falls to the floor, right behind Thorin and he spins around.

Behind him, Bilbo is frantically checking his jacket, but stops as soon as some more coins fall. Thorin looks up, seeing Smaug crawling just above them, looking for them. Coins fall from his chest, where several more coins and gems have embedded themselves after years of sleeping on them.

Thorin stays frozen on his spot for several seconds, expecting Smaug to notice them any minute now. Or at least smell them. But when that doesn't happen, he soundlessly motions the others to keep on going.

It won't be long now. Only a few more corridors, before they will reach the western wing. Lets just hope, Smaug doesn't find them, before they reach the guardroom.

But to his horror, the guardroom has become a tomb. Countless bodies are spread all over the room, mummified by the dry air of Smaug. And the exit Thorin had wished to use, closed and blocked.

'There is no way out!'

'No!'

'We're trapped!'

Thorin looks at Dwalin for help. But the look of defeat of the warrior is not what he was looking for. Is this it? Is this where they will die? Trapped inside this room, like rats? No! This is not how they will end! They will no die a slow dead! If they are to die tonight, then they will die fighting! If they will burn, well, then they will burn together!

'I have a plan...'

* * *

Várar places her hand on Kíli's forehead. The fever is going down. The dwarf has stopped shaking as well. The wound has stopped bleeding as well. Signs for a fast recovery! Though he should not be traveling any time soon.

Kíli blinks a few times, before opening his eyes to look at Várar in confusion. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the light, but he knows it is Várar standing next to him. Her fiery hair and dwarvenbuild betraying her, even before he can see her face clearly. The question is, why is she here?

'Shh,' Várar says, placing a finger on his lips. 'You have to save your strength. Your body has had a lot to endure and needs rest.'

'B-but why are you here? You stayed in Mirkwood.'

'We came to save you, of course.'

We, as in more than one. But who are the others? And why did they come to save him? Just then, he sees a tall figure appear next to Várar, saying something he doesn't understand. But Kíli does see who it is. Tauriel, the she-elf that had saved him from the spiders. The elf that had thrown him in his cell. The elf he has fallen in love with. And she has come to save him again!

'You gave us quite a scare, Kíli,' Fíli says as he walks over as well. 'Feeling better now?'

Kíli smiles sheepishly at his older brother, before nodding his head. Yes, he is feeling much better now. The last thing he remembers, is the departure of Thorin and the others, before the pain got too much and he collapsed. But now that pain is gone, as is his fever. All the young dwarf feels right now, is a slight stinging feeling in his leg. Annoying, not painful.

The dark-haired dwarf looks at his leg. Bandages are wrapped around it. Then he looks at the two females. Only a fool wouldn't realise those two have saved his life. But before he can open his mouth to thank them, the house shakes violently and the human girls start to scream.

'What is happening?' Tilda asks as she turns to her sister for comfort.

'I don't know.'

With two long strides, Tauriel reaches the window. Her keen eyes searching the Lonely Mountain as a bright glow surrounds it. But what she is looking for, is not in the mountain. No, it is up in the darkened sky. Barely noticeable for the eyes, her keen elven eyes spot a dark shadow, moving towards Esgaroth. A large shadow, larger then she has ever seen, and it can mean only one thing...

'The dragon is coming...,' she whispers almost inaudible. Then Tauriel turns around to face the others. 'Smaug is coming this way!'

Várar looks outside as well. Though she can not see the dragon yet, she can hear him. The movement of his wings making the sound of a hurricane. It is when he starts breathing fire, that he makes himself known to the small town.

People start to scream as they panic, knowing what is going on from the moment the fire touches the ground. Houses are being light up like torches as the firedrake lets his flames blaze the wooden homes.

'We have to leave, _now_.'

The house no longer being save. Nor are the streets. Nowhere is save, not while the dragon is flying around. His keen eyes spot everything below him. Every movement and he mocks the frightened humans.

'We have no time,' Tauriel agrees with her friend. 'We must leave!'

'Get him up.'

'Come on, brother,' Fíli says to Kíli as he helps him stand up.

'Come on, come on! Let's go.'

As Bofur tries rush Kíli, the younger dwarf tries to walk on his own. But his leg is still to weak to hold his weight. He stumbles for a moment, before Várar pulls his arm around his shoulder, helping him walk. Once she is sure he can manage with just the help of his brother, she joins Tauriel's side.

'As fast as you can,' Tauriel calls out over her shoulder. Especially to the three humans.

'We're nor leaving,' Bain says, standing his ground. 'Not without our father.'

'Stay here and you _and_ your sisters will die,' Várar says, eyeing the skies, not the boy. 'I don't think that is what your father would wish for you.'

Bain hesitates for a moment, looking at his sisters. He knows the dwarrowdam is right. If they stay, Sigrid and Tilda will die. And he will too. And what if their father is still alive? He would be heartbroken, knowing his children have died. No, for now, their best chances are with this company.

Bells are ringing and people are frantically loading their possessions into boats, as the two female warriors lead the others through the town. Tauriel is leading the way mostly. Her eyes spot the fierce dragon much sooner than the others. Her ears can locate the creature and tell the others to hide in time.

'Give me your hand,' Fíli says to Várar as he jumps into a boat.

She takes it without hesitation, telling him help her into the boat as well. Then she turns around, helping the children in as well.

'Come on, we gotta go!'

After Kíli gets on the boat, Bofur and Fíli push the small boat from the anchorage. They need to get to the riverbank as soon as possible! As they are poling through the canal, Smaug swoops low over the town. Townspeople scream as he releases his blazing fire again. As the fire drake climbs higher again, he releases a terrifying roar, sending shivers down everyone's spine.

Várar watches the drake dive down again, feeling her heart pounding in her chest in fear. Never before has she faced danger like this. Not even with the orcs. She actually fears for her life right now! Even though Smaug unleashes his flames on the other side of town, she can still feel the heat of his blazing inferno.

People all around them scream in fear or in pain. Dead bodies float in the canal all around them, surrounded by cracks of ice. A horrifying sight to behold. A sight, Várar fears she will haunt her forever as she tries not to look at it.

'Look out!'

Right at that moment, their boat collides with a much bigger one, and Várar finds herself flying forwards. She quickly grabs something to hold onto, to prevent her from falling. As Tauriel pushes the boats apart as Smaug flies over them again.

'Da!' Bain suddenly cries out and everyone turns to look at where boy is looking at.

'Da!' his younger sister cries out as well, when she notices her father as well.

Várar watches as the man shoots an arrow at the firedrake, amazed at the bravery of the man. But she also knows his actions are in vain. No ordinary arrow can kill the beast. Only a black arrow. But next to her, Kíli is not aware of this fact, as he yells her has hit the dragon.

'No,' Várar tells him, remembering what her father used to tell her about the firedrake of Erebor. 'No weapon can kill him. Only a black arrow.'

While Kíli looks at the flying dragon above them, a look of disconsolate in his eyes as realisation dawns upon him. Next to him, Bain looks down in thought. Then he suddenly looks up with a look of determination. He looks around frantically, before leaping up and jumping out of the boat.

'Bain!'

'What are you doing?!'

'Come back! Bain come back!'

But the boy doesn't listen to them as he makes his way over to the dock. As Tilda cries out for her brother one more time, Tauriel looks at her in sadness. The boy is done for, staying here and they will are too, if the linger any longer.

So instead of comforting the young girl, Tauriel tells the dwarves to leave Bain. Saying they cannot go back to get him. Várar nods, glancing towards when Bain disappeared. Somehow she has a feeling he wouldn't come with them even if they were to get him.

* * *

As Bilbo watches the scene down at the lake, he feels remorse. It's because of them people are dieing right now. It's because of them, the town is burning, a contrast to the dark night sky.

The small hobbit flinches as he watches the dragon releases another breath of fire. How long will this continue? How many will die before the town is completely burned? How many have paid for their mistake? And how many will follow?

Suddenly a terrifying roar fills the air, turning his attention towards the sky. Even through the darkness, his keen eyes can spot the dragon, though not with ease. But what he sees, leaves the hobbit speechless.

Up in the sky Smaug is climbing higher and higher. His cry a cry of agony, as his voice becomes softer and eventually dies out. The last noise he makes, a chocking noise. Then he starts to dive towards the ground. Going faster and faster, until he crashes into Laketown.

The sound echoes throughout the land, shaking even the ground beneath Bilbo's feet. Around him, the dwarves all jump up in surprise. Looking around in shock as they try to figure out what has happened.

'What was that?' Oin asks as the dwarf looks at Laketown. 'What happened?'

'It fell,' Bilbo states in shock. 'I saw it, it's dead. Smaug is dead!'

His statement causes an uproar of cheering from the dwarves. Talking loudly and enthusiastically. Who would have guessed it? Someone has slain the dragon!

'By my beard! I think he's right!' Gloin cheers, pointing towards the morning sky. 'The ravens of Erebor are returning to the mountain.'

Bilbo looks up as well when he hears the cawing of several birds above him. And sure enough, a flock of ravens is flying to the Lonely Mountain. But once Bilbo's gaze is turned towards the mountain, his smile disappears as he notices Thorin leaving towards the mountain as well. Something is wrong, something is horribly wrong! Bilbo just knows it. Why else would Thorin leave just like that?

* * *

**And this is where I leave you for now. I hope you liked it. With Smaug dead, what will happen now? Will Várar join the dwarves? Will she return to Thranduil? Or perhaps she joins Legolas and Tauriel? For now, only I know. **

**Anyway, I hope to see you next time! Don't forget to review. Remember, reviews equals motivation!**

**Oh and before I forget. I have an important announcement written on my profile, about my updates!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**

**Wow, this chapter came out much quicker than I had anticipated! And longer! Thanks to a few days off and of course two wonderful reviews! Thank you so much, Flowerchild23 and mystique999.**

* * *

**Erebor**

As the early morning sun rises, the boat hits the riverbank. On the banks of the lake are refugees and wreckage from Laketown. People all around Várar are screaming and crying. Sigrid and Tilda waste no time to find their father and brother as Tauriel follows them. No doubt wanting to make sure they're save.

A body wastes up on the shore right as Várar is about to follow her friend, making her take a step back in disgust. For someone who has never witnessed dead, she ssure has seen enough for a lifetime. All in just one night. And from the looks of the humans around her, more will die.

'You haven't seen much dead, have you?' someone asks from behind her and Várar turns around.

'Not really no,' she says as she looks at Fíli. 'I grew up with immortals. And immortals are known to be kind of _immortal_, you know.'

At this, Fíli chuckles sadly as he approaches her. He looks at the sight before him. People are still screaming and crying, pulling the bodies of their loved ones out of the water. Some are still alive, others have died. Burned by Smaug, others have drowned.

'Well, then I guess you have had your fill of death then.'

As he looks at the dwarrowdam next to him, he sees her nod, a sad look in her eyes. Even though getting used to the thought of her being raised by elves, he still gets surprised by simple things. Every dwarf has witnessed death even before they are of age. True it never gets easy, but the look in her eyes. So terrified!

'I guess you will be leaving for the mountain straight away?'

He nods. Yes, there might still be a chance the others are alive. A very slim chance, but a chance! And if not, then they must reach Erebor before anyone else does. If his uncle has perished, then Fíli has to claim the throne, before other folk decide to take treasures.

'I know we have offered you this before,' Fíli begins as Várar helps them push the boat into the water again. 'But you are welcome to come along. A dwarf doesn't belong with elves.'

With a small smile, Várar rejects his offer. She wishes she could go, she really does! But she must set things straight with her father. She will not leave her father just like that. The one who has raised her as his own, who has given her his love her.

She's not a fool. She knows she cannot stay with the elves forever. But she has never felt the need to leave her father's side. Well, except that one day, over fifty years ago. But she was just a child back then! Naïve and driven by emotions.

'Maybe one day you will find me at your doorsteps,' she says with a smile, as all three dwarves look at her sadly. 'Perhaps one day soon, perhaps when you are king under the mountain. Who knows.'

Why are all these dwarves so set on having her come with them?

'And a joyous day it will be then,' Fíli says, taking her hand in his. 'A day I will be looking forward to.'

With that said, he places a soft kiss on the back of he hand. He is saddened by her rejection and he doesn't know why. He had really hoped she would come with him, seeing as she has left her home to save them.

He likes her, he has discovered that when she came bursting through the door back at Esgaroth, standing there like a real warrior. Unlike any dwarrowdam back home. The way she had fought those orcs, the way she had saved Kíli's life. He had been mesmerised by the sight of her.

With one last nod, Várar turns around, leaving the company of dwarves. He notices her eyes scan the area, probably in search for her brother. Then Fíli spots his brother, talking to the she-elf.

'Kíli, come on!' he calls out for the dwarf in annoyance. 'We're leaving.'

With one last glance at the dwarrowdam, Fíli jumps in the boat. Silently wishing she'll change her mind and join them. Though he knows she won't. He has seen the love she holds for those pointy ears, and leaving them behind, would be the same as Fíli leaving his brother. That will never happen.

Though unknown to him, Várar has to fight the very urge, Fíli is hoping for. Afraid she might change her mind if she is to look back, Várar has set her eyes firmly on Tauriel and Kíli as she walks over to the pair. But why? Why does she feel so drawn to these dwarves? Why does she feel like she has the _need_ to be with them? Is it normal for dwarves to feel like this?

She hears Kíli say something in Khuzdul. And even though she doesn't understand it, she still has a feeling she knows what he is saying. And it makes her wonder. Is she making the right choice? Perhaps she should follow the dwarves. After all, she _is_ a dwarf. Does she not belong with the dwarves?

Besides, she wants to know more about her own folk. She wants to know more about her mother. About dwarves. And the only way to get answers to her questions, is by following these four dwarves, as their leader has the answers.

But just as she is losing her mental battle not to look back, her eyes spot something behind her dear friend and she smiles brightly.

'_Muindor_!'

'_Hîr nin_, Legolas.'

But Legolas looks at neither female. His gaze fixated on Kíli as they glare at each other. Then he tells Kíli to leave as he is needed elsewere. But the dwarf is too stubborn, not wanting to leave just yet. And Várar has a feeling why.

She has noticed the look Kíli has given Tauriel and she him. It is a look she has seen a lot over the passed few years. That look is the same reason for Legolas' hostility, for he has given Tauriel the same look for years.

'I fear your brother will leave you behind if you don't hurry,' Várar says to the dwarf as she places a hand on his shoulder.

Kíli kkeeps glaring at Legolas for a moment, before turning to Várar with a sheepish smile.

'And your's will tear me apart,' he chuckles bitterly.

'Until me meet again, _mellon_,' Várar says with a nod of her head.

'Yeah, until we meet again.'

She doesn't miss the quick movement of his eyes, as he glances at Tauriel. But she doesn't say anything. She only smiles knowingly. With a nod, Kíli hurries over to his comrades. The two youngest dwarves looking over their shoulder at the females.

But Várar doesn't notice. Instead her attention is drawn to some commotion as the shouting of the townspeople has changed to angry shouting. So when she passes by Tauriel, she doesn't notice the tears that start to form in her friend's eyes.

* * *

The climb has been tough, especially for Kíli. Though the youngest dwarf doesn't show it, his injury still is painful and sometimes slows him down. Even with the help of elven magic, he still has a limp.

Fíli has noticed it too. And despite his eagerness to reach the mountain, he still has kept a slow pace. When he is going to reach the mountain – their home – he will have his brother at his side. He has always dreamt about it, though never hoped to see the day to actually witness it.

But here they are. As they approach the gates, Fíli stops as he looks at the destruction around him. Smaug's doing. A mixture of shock and fear fills his body as he looks at the others. What will they find inside? Will they find any survivors? Will they only find bodies?

He wants to enter Erebor slowly, he really does. But at the sight of this destruction, he can no longer contain himself. He needs to know what has happened to the others. He needs to know if they are still alive.

So the dwarf prince starts to run into the halls of Erebor. No sign of life. Only dead and destruction. And as Bofur calls out, his echoing voice the only sound in the silence. The hatted dwarf calls out for his brother and cousin. But no one answers him. He calls out for anybody, but is only met with silence.

Still they don't give up. So Fíli leads them through the halls, looking for their kin. Even though he doesn't know which way to go, he still continues on. They will find their comrades. No matter what!

By now, all for of them are calling for the others, as they run down a staircase. The only noise, the clambering of their own footsteps. Or not? Fíli looks around in surprise. Did he hear correctly? Does he hear footsteps hurrying towards them?

'Wait! Wait!'

'It's Bilbo,' Oins says from behind him and Fíli looks towards the other side of the city. 'He's alive!'

To his surprise, the hobbit is indeed still alive. Relieve washes over him, as Fíli greets the smaller creature. It he has survived, there might be others too! But as Bilbo stops in front of them, his smile soon drops at the words of the hobbit. Why do they need to leave? What is going on?

'I have tried talking to him,' Bilbo continues, confusing the four dwarves even more. 'But he won't listen.'

'What do you mean, laddie?'

After Oin's question, Bilbo finally starts to make sense as he almost shouts out Thorin's name out of frustration. The hobbit explains to them, their leader has been out – whatever that means – for days. Days without sleep and little food.

'He's not been himself, not at all,' the hobbit ends. Does Fíli spot a hint of fear? 'It's this, this _place_! I think a sickness lies on it.'

Something moves in the distance, a few levels lower. It causes Fíli to look past Bilbo as his hobbit friend tries to regain his composure. But as soon as Fíli realises what he sees, he wrinkles his brow in consternation.

As Fíli moves past Bilbo, he can hear Kíli ask Bilbo what kind of sickness he means. Afraid of the state they will find their uncle. And afraid his brother should be, Fíli realises as he hurries down the stairs. Not paying heed to the cries of Bilbo. He can hear them run after him, but Fíli will not be stopped by them. He needs to see for himself.

The lower he gets, the brighter the golden light glows. A mixture of the torches and the reflective gold. He rounds a corner and stops short at the sight of the treasure. His eyes wide of shock, as he takes in the sight of it all. Gold, everywhere! Heaped so high over the floor, Fíli can barely see the ground.

But it is not only the gold, he sees. And it's not the gold that has caused the look of shock in his eyes. No, for his keen eyes has spotted something else. Something he has never seen before. Well, not something – _someone_!

Down there, striding slowly out of a doorway, a dwarf moves through the piles of gold. Dressed in royal robes and covered in jewellery, is Thorin. But at the same time it is a whole other dwarf as he is speaking softly, probably to himself as he has yet to notice his company.

'Gold,' Fíli hears his uncle say as he looks at the gold with a strange, almost posses look in his eyes. 'Gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow and grief.'

Suddenly Thorin looks up in surprise, finally having noticed the others. But where as the others look at Thorin in shock, Fíli finds himself looking at his uncle in disappointment. This is not the same uncle as the one who always told tales about Erebor. This is no longer the same Thorin as the Thorin Oakenshield who has lead the company to reclaim Erebor.

No. This is a whole new Thorin.

'Behold, the great treasure hoard of Thror.' With that said, Thorin flings something high into the air to the stairwell landing. There Fíli catches the giant blood-red jewel. 'Welcome, my sister's sons, to the kingdom of Erebor!'

His voice echoes through the hall, almost being carried through the whole mountain it seems. The way his uncle talks, it sends shivers down his spine. Possessed, insane, _frighting_!

What have they done?

* * *

'How could you, ada!' Várar says angrily as the elven king looks down at her from his throne. 'We did nothing wrong, _she_ did nothing wrong!'

Várar glares at Thranduil. When Elros had come to tell them the king had summoned them, she had been overjoyed. She hadn't even waited for Legolas and Tauriel to follow. All she had wanted, was to get back to her father. She had been away from home for long enough. She had been away from her father for long enough. Blood or no blood, Thranduil is her father and the bond they share is a strong one. Truth be told, Várar might even be called a daddy's girl. She always has been, she always will be.

But still she is angered by his actions. How could he banish Tauriel. Her best friend!

'Correct me if I'm wrong, Várar,' Thranduil begins as he rises from his throne. His voice as calm as always. 'But did I not tell you to stay away from the dwarves? And yet, you disobey me. You even help them escape.'

'What has...'

With one small gesture, he silences Várar. A look of shame and confusion now mixed with her anger.

'And then you left, following Tauriel to save some dwarf, again disobeying my orders.' He stops in front of Várar, looking down at her still. 'I do not blame you, though.'

With that Várar looks up in shock. She had expected some lecture, followed by punishment. He had been so furious when she helped the dwarves escape. But now he states she isn't to blame? Not even after all she's done?

Thranduil turns, so he is facing Várar sideways, looking ahead of him.

'I blame Tauriel. She has always been a rebel and after the two of you have become friends, she has turned you into a rebel as well. And I will not lose you because of one rebellious _elleth_.' He glances back at Várar, who looks at him in shock. Then he adds; 'Nor to a foolish dwarvenking.'

'You can't be serious, ada,' Várar says as she just looks at him. 'Tauriel only wanted to help Kíli. And I did too.'

'You went against my order! Both of you.' Though his voice is still as calm as ever, Várar can hear a hint of anger now. 'And now Tauriel has faced the consequences. Do not force me to punish you as well, _gwilwileth_, for you are dear to me.'

'And what about Legolas?' Várar asks, as she looks at Thranduil. Something in his eyes changes at the mention of his son. But he stays silent. 'He is in love with Tauriel. By banishing her, you have banished _him_!'

Tears begin to form in her eyes as Várar looks down. How could he? How _could_ he! She knows he means only to protect her, but somehow she feels like he has smothered her. The events at Esgaroth still fresh on her mind. All those bodies, floating in the dark water. How will she ever be able to get those images out of her head? And the screaming, she can still those terrifying screams.

If she and Tauriel hadn't stayed behind, then what would have happened with those children? And the dwarves? Kíli would have died before Smaug came, for he was nearly dead when they arrived. And Fíli? He would have stayed at his brother's side, grieving as the dragon would burn the town. Perhaps Bofur and Oin would have made it, if they did not grieve along with Fíli.

'What about Erebor?' Várar suddenly asks, as she wipes away a tear. 'What about the survivors of Esgaroth? Will, you not help them?'

Her father looks at her for a moment. And in that moment, Várar silently hopes he won't make the same mistake he had made all those years ago. But at the same time, she fears he will not help them.

'Perhaps we could go and help them,' he answers after a moment of silence. 'They have lost a lot, including hope. And I need to have a word with the king under the mountain anyway. If he is still alive.'

* * *

As Várar rides into the city of Dale – or what once had been Dale- she looks around at all the people outside. It seems there are more survivors than she had expected, but still there are a lot of injured. Most of them would have died within days if the elves hadn't showed up.

Suddenly a man enters the courtyard. The man, Bard, looks at the unexpected company and her father takes it as his que to ride up to him. So Várar follows, her pony trotting enthusiastically to be outside of the forest at last.

'_Easy, Tálagor_,' Várar whispers to the stallion, gently stroking his red coat.

'My lord, Thranduil,' Bard begins bowing before the king. 'We did not look to see you here.'

'My daughter told me you were in need of aid.'

That causes confused whispering from the people as they point at Várar. But as soon as they notice a wagon being pulled up, they cheer in joy. For the wagon is loaded with food and drink for them. As Elves help unload the cart, Bard approaches Thranduil and Várar.

'You have saved us!' he exclaims in joy. 'I do not know how to thank you. And you, lady Várar,' he continues as he turns to the smiling dwarrowdam. 'I should thank you twice, for you have brought my children to safety.'

Várar nods him in acknowledgement. So even Bain has survived.

'Your gratitude is misplaced,' Thranduil says with a cold voice, his eyes turned to Erebor. 'Though Várar has convinced my to help out, I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine.'

With that said, he turns his elk around. It doesn't take long for the elves to unload the chart and then they march out of Dale. Várar watches her father leave with a sad expression. She knew there was a reason why had given in so easily. Then she faces Bard, bidding him farewell, before hurrying after her father.

But the man runs after them, asking them to wait.

'You would go to war over a handful of gems?'

'The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken,' is the stoic reply.

'And what of the dwarves?' Bard shoots, looking at Várar, before turning his gaze back at the tall elf. 'Everyone knows they are protective of their women, yet you have claimed one as your own, calling her your daughter.'

'How Várar became in my care, is non of your concern,' Thranduil replies, his voice as cold as ice. 'She is more elf than dwarf and has nothing to do with those dwarves.'

'Forgive me my lord. I did not mean to accuse you. I just meant to say... They have something you want and you have something they want.' At this Várar quirks a brow. Is this man trying to suggest her father to trade her for some gems? 'If reinforcement arrives, they will do anything to bring their king what he wants.'

'If a dwarf dares to touch Várar, I will have his head,' she hears her father growl dangerously. 'Besides, we will have war either way then.'

'Not necessarily. My people have a claim upon the riches in that mountain. Let me speak with Thorin. That way, he doesn't have to see lady Várar. It might raise his desire'

'And how are you so sure this will prevent a war?'

While Várar listens to the conversation, her eyes travel to the mountain. What did Bard mean? Did the man hinted Thorin wanted her? Surely not! Perhaps Thorin wants her to be with dwarves, that much he has made clear. Bard couldn't possibly mean Thorin _wants_ her!

'I'm not sure it will work,' she hears Bard confess. 'But to avoid war, I would try and reason with a dwarf!'

Thranduil stays quiet for a moment, thinking Bard's words over. He has feared the day dwarves were to know of Várar's existence, for Thranduil is no fool. He too, knows how protective – _possessive_ even – are about their women. He has also considered a possible war because of her.

He glances at the young dwarrowdam next to him. She can not handle such pressure. Sooner or later she will give in and leave his side, if it means peace. She doesn't handle dead well. Not when there is many in a short time. Not when the fallen ones are the ones she cares about. Her eyes had betrayed that much when she had returned home. A fear of losing her loved ones.

But something inside him tells Thranduil there will be no war about Várar. Only if he was to start it. For he has seen the glances she keeps giving Erebor. A longing in her eyes. It has been aparent eversince they entered Dale and she had seen the mountain for the first time. She is drawn to it, even is she doesn't realises it herself. He will lose his daughter, and he will lose her soon!

* * *

Someone is coming! Luckily the wall is done, so the intruder cannot enter Erebor. At least, not without permission of the dwarves. And no one is to enter his kingdom. Only a certain dwarrowdam. But according to his nephew, she has gone back to the lands she was raised. Back to those elf-scum!

Thorin watches as a rider stops in front of the gate. Bard, he recognises. With a quick glance at Dale, he can easily spot the golden armor of the elves. It seems a war is to start soon. But he will not lose his kingdom! Not again!

'Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.'

Thorin glares at the man below. A filthy thief, telling filthy lies! He had hoped to find them all dead, so he could steal away the treasure. A treasure that belongs to him, _Thorin_! Not to some bargeman.

'Why did you come to the gates of the king under the mountain, armed for war?'

'Why does the king under the mountain fence himself in?' Bard replies calmly. 'Like a robber in his hole.'

'Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.'

A crime the bargeman denies. Stating he is seeking fair settlement. Though Thorin does not believe a word this man is saying, he does agree to speak with him. But not before looking over at Balin. His friend is talking to a raven, telling it to send out a message to Dain. Then the black bird flips its wings, flying away rapidly while cawing loudly.

'I'm listening,' he tells the bargeman as he strides up to a hole in the blockade.

'On behalf of the people of Laketown, I ask that you honour your pledge,' Bard says, cutting straight to the case. 'A share of the treasure so that they might rebuild their lives.'

So the man is after the treasure, just like Thorin had expected! But he will give him none!

'I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door.'

Bard glances over his shoulder, at the army of elves. Then he looks back at the new king under the mountain.

'That armed host will attack this mountain, if we do not come to terms.'

But Thorin is not frightened by his threat. He will not part from his treasure. If those foolish men think they have the right to claim even one coin, they are mistaken! No matter what Bard says to try and reason with him, Thorin will not hear it.

Having heard enough of this man, Thorin steps away and out of view. As he leans against the blockade, feeling tired and weary. Why does he feel this way? His eyes travel up to his companions, before shouting at the man on the other side.

'Be gone, ere arrow fly!'

As he hears Bard leave, Thorin makes his way up the platform again. There he watches the man ride back to Dale. At the city gate, Thorin spots something small and he smirks. It seems she has returned.

'What are you doing?' Bilbo asks as the hobbit watches the lone rider as well. 'You cannot go to war.'

'This does not concern you,' Thorin replies, his eyes still on the dwarrowdam.

But the hobbit disagrees. He mentions the army of elves and several angry fishermen. How can they win against that?

'We are in fact outnumbered,' Bilbo ends.

'Not for much longer,' Thorin disagrees as he turns to look at Bilbo, smiling at him.

Confused, the hobbit asks what he means by that and Thorin looks off in the distance. If his cousin moves out immediately, he should be here by tomorrow. Then he faces the hobbit again.

'It means, master Baggings, you should never underestimate dwarves.' Then he turns to the whole group. 'We have reclaimed Erebor. Now we defend it!'

With one last glance at Dale, Thorin strides down the steps, wanting to search for the Arkenstone once more. With his mind completely clouded by his treasure, he misses the look of distress on Balin and Bilbo's faces. Tomorrow they will fight, but he will not give up Erebor! The kingdom is his and his alone, along with the treasure! And that is exactly what his friends are worried for.

* * *

**A/N**

**And this is where I leave you for now. This chapter has become longer than I planned it to be. But I wanted to have a little bit of Thranduil's feelings in it. His fear of losing his daughter.**

**I also changed Fíli a bit, seeing he the older brother and next in line. Because in the movie, I noticed at first Fíli is concerned about what has happening with Thorin. But later, at the wall, he is cheering when Thorin is declairing war. I am trying to keep Fíli a little more level-headed in this story.**

**We are getting closer and closer to the battle. What will happen? Who will survive? Will Várar be able to save the lives of Thorin, Fíli and Kíli? Will she die trying? Who knows.**

**Well, I do. You, my dear readers, will have to wait for the next chapter!**

**Oh, because I am such a nice person, I leave a little hint for the upcoming chapter. Remember Várar's fiery steed, Tálagor? Well, Tálagor means Fast Foot. A matching name for the blood bay with feet as swift as lighting.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**

**I am so sorry for keeping you guys waiting again! No I did not forgot about you, nor did I ran out of ideas. The problem was, I had too many ideas to write them down. I actually had to write down this chapter for about 3 times before I was pleased with it.**

**I know you all want to start reading now, so I only want to Thank my reviewers for their reviews! Thank you!**

* * *

**And So It Begins**

Várar watches as Bard rides back to the gates of Dale, a disappointed look in his eyes. Without saying a word, Várar already knows the answer Thorin has given him. And no doubt her father has heard the whole conversation. His keen ears never fail to pick up important information, even he was not meant to know them.

She glances up at her father. His whole posture as elegant and calm as ever, as he watches Bard too. His face nor eyes betray his feelings. Even Várar can't tell how he feels right now.

'He will give us nothing,' Bard says as he arrives, then looks back at Erebor.

'Such a pitty,' Thranduil says, his voice stoic. He already expected the answer. The dwarf being as weak as his grandfather when it comes to the sickness. 'Still, you tried.'

'But why, father?' Várar asks as she looks at Erebor as well. 'Why would he risk war, when there is no need for it?'

In the distance she can see the dwarves dislodge the head of a massive statue, letting it fall to the ground and breaks the bridge. Are they really so set on their treasure? Surely there is enough in it for everyone? So why not give the people of Esgaroth some to rebuild their homes? Is this all Thorin's doing? Or are the others with him in this?

'Because they are foolish and proud, _gwilwileth_,' is the answer. 'They understand only one thing.'

Várar hears the sound of a sword being unsheathed and turns to look at her father, as he glances at his sword. The he looks at the mountain while addressing to his soldiers.

'We attack at dawn!' Then he turns his elk around and rides into the city, with followed by Várar. 'Are you with us?'

At this question, Bard looks at the mountain in thought. He clearly doesn't want to start a war, but his people have a claim on that gold. And if Thorin is not going to hand it over, then what choice do they have?

Várar is upset about the declared war as well. A war means people will die, innocent people. It always brings more pain and destruction than it's worth. And on which side does she belong? Does she agree with Thorin? Absolutely not!

But she doesn't agree with her father as well! If this war is going to happen all dwarves will probably perish. Fíli will fall. Kíli will fall. And all, because of two pride kings!

No, war is not the answer! She needs to stop her father, but how?

Várar nudges Tálagor, making him ride up to Thranduil. She wants to say something, anything, to make him change his mind. But she can not think of anything to say. What can she say? Her father doesn't care about these dwarves. He isn't heartless, but the fate of those dwarves are of no concern to him.

'You do not agree with me,' Thranduil finally says as they reach his tent. 'You think war is not the answer.'

Várar remains silent as he dismounts his elk and walks over to her. She can only look at the ground in sadness. As she starts to dismount her pony, hands reach out to help her, causing her to look at her father. He never helps her down! So why now?

'I wish it did not have to be this way either, Várar,' he continues, guiding her inside of his tent. 'But the race of dwarves is a stubborn race. Something I have learned first hand by raising you.'

At this Várar looks up in surprise, to see her father smiling at her. She returns a weak smile as she remembers the trouble she has caused him over the years. Sometimes minor things, other times not so minor. But always the result of her having set her mind onto something.

'It is just... I do not wish for more dead bodies,' Várar finally says. 'The people of Esgaroth have had their share already. The dwarves of Erebor have lost everything and barely survived when the dragon took over their home. And you... I can not bare the thought of losing you, ada!'

By now, tears have formed in her eyes and she has to fight them back. There it is, her worst fear. The fear of losing her father. He might be immortal and never grow old. But even immortals can die in battle!

True, what are thirteen dwarves to an army of elves and men. But what if back-up arrives for the dwarves? Enough to hold them back? She has seen that raven fly off, a call for back-up. And if they are to reach them in time, she might lose her father!

But before she can say anything else, someone enters the tent as well. The first being Bard and after him a tall man –though not as tall as her father- with a long beard and grey robes.

'Gandalf!'

'Young lady Várar,' the wizard greets her with a nod, though his eyes are filled with worry. 'I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But alas, it is as it is.'

Then he turns to Thranduil.

'You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves,' the wizards tells, or better said demands. 'And you best bring Várar somewhere save. War is coming!'

'What do you mean, Gandalf?'

'The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied,' he answers as he looks at the female of the company. 'You are all in mortal danger!'

'What are you talking about?' Bard asks, but Thranduil doesn't let Gandalf answer.

'I can see you know nothing of wizards,' he tells Bard as he walks over to Várar, placing his hands on her shoulders. 'They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm.'

'Not this time,' the wizard disagrees. 'Armies of orcs are on the move, and these are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.'

'Our enemy?' Várar asks in confusion. 'What does he mean by that, ada?'

But Thranduil ignores her question, asking why this enemy is showing his hand now. Though his voice is emotionless, Várar can feel his hold on her shoulders tighten. It makes her wonder about this enemy even more.

'Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland.' Gandalf looks at Várar now, as he continues. 'The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.'

Várar gasps as she suddenly realises something. Though she still doesn't know who this enemy is they are talking about. But she does know why Thorin was never to reach the mountain.

'This enemy,' she begins as she looks at the wizard. 'He wants to have the mountain for himself, doesn't he? I mean, Erebor used to be the centre of trade, because of its position. So it would be the perfect position to attack and control his enemies.'

By now they are outside, having walked to a spot where they can see the gates of Erebor.

'Indeed it is,' Gandalf agrees. 'This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should ever rise again, Rivendell, Lothlorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall!'

'And where is this army you speak of, mithrandir?'

Várar looks at Gandalf, waiting for his answer. But the wizard stays silent.

* * *

'Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I am trying to do?'

Várar stops braiding her hair for a moment, surprised at the sudden outburst of the mithrandir. The past hour he has tried to convince her father to stop the war. But up until now it has been in vain. And after her comment about her father being a stubborn as a dwarf, Thranduil had dismissed her from the conversation. Stating this wasn't for ladies to be concerned about.

Still, she had to stay inside of the tent. Thranduil doesn't trust those fishermen outside. And while there are enough guards outside as well, he stated he simply didn't want her to leave his side. So to pass the time, Várar has decided tot braid her hair for war, trying to think about a way to prevent it.

'I think you're trying to save your dwarvish friends,' she hears her father answer. 'And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not dissuade me from my course. You started this, mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it.'

With that said, he exits the tent, asking one of the guards if the archers are in position. The elf confirms it.

'Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain – kill it!'

Then Thranduil walks back inside. He glances at Várar for a moment, seeing the anger in her eyes. He knows she doesn't agree with him. But she has kept quiet and he is thankful for that. After her confession, he had almost given up the war. To let those dwarves keep those gems. But then the mithrandir had come and it had sparked up his fire again. He has to let those dwarves know who is in charge!

Something moves on the other side of the tent, making Várar turn her attention to the grey wizard as he stalks out of the tent, followed by Bard. With only her father inside, a long silence is followed. Várar refuses to look at her father, furious with her father. It is bad enough for him to have declared the dwarves war, but to dismiss the mithrandir like that? That is just foolish and rude!

'You need not to worry about what the mithrandir had said,' Thranduil finally says. 'Sometimes he gives words of wisdome, sometimes his words...'

But he stops when the wizard walks into the tent again. Behind him a small creature with hairy feet and slightly pointed ears.

'Bilbo!' Várar cries out as she runs over to the hobbit, pulling him in a tight embrace. 'I feared you had perished!'

'No, I'm still here,' he answers with a grin, glad to see the dwarrowdam as well. 'It takes more than one dragon to get rid off me.'

Várar chuckles at this, releasing the small creature. Though she doesn't know him as well as she knows Thorin and his nephews –who she doesn't really know that well as well- she is glad to see him alive and well. He has helped her a lot when she helped the dwarves escape.

'If I'm not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards,' Thranduil says as he eyes the hobbit next to his daughter.

His piercing eyes stare at Bilbo, who in his turn looks extremely uncomfortable. As he mutters an almost audiable 'yes', Várar turns her attention to her father again, a little shocked. How does he father know about Bilbo's hand in the escape?

'Sorry about that,' Bilbo mutters, before he steps forward to place a wrapped package on the table. 'I came... to give you this.'

Várar looks at the package, curious for what Bilbo has brought. And as soon as the hobbit has removed the wrappage, Várar gasps in surprise. Never has she seen such a beautiful gem! Is this what lies inside that mountain? No wonder Thorin is so set on wanting to keep it for himself!

'The heart of the mountain,' her father breathes, as he rises from his seat. 'The king's jewel!'

Gandalf and Bard approach to look at it in awe as well.

'And worth a king's ransom,' Bard states as he looks at Bilbo. 'How is this yours to give?'

'I took it as my fourtheenth share of the treasure.'

* * *

Várar rushes to the frontline after she had seen Bilbo almost being pushed off the rampart. Something has gone wrong and she needs to reach the frontline, before anyone gets hurt. Elves move out of the way as Tálegor makes his way through the lines of elves, not wanting to get run over by the fiery stallion.

'Are we resolved?' Bard asks as Várar reaches the front line. 'The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised.'

Várar looks up to see Thorin breathing heavily. Thinking his options over in his head. Then he turns his head to look at the ridge in the distance. Almost like he is looking for someone, or perhaps something? Does he really hope his reenforcement will arive on time? With so little time?

'Give us your answer! Will you have peace or war?'

Thorin bows his head, and even from where she is standing, Várar can see the worry and conflict in his eyes. Time is running out and he knows it. But she also sees something different, something strange in his eyes. Some kind of greed that makes him not wanting to give up the gold.

'Give us your answer!' Bard demands. 'Will you have peace or war?'

Thorin bows his head, clearly in doubt. If only she could reach to him, say something. But what can she say to prefent war? Várar notices a small but hopeful movement as Thorin glances at the hill and she knows what he is hoping for.

'Thorin,' she begins, causing the dwarf to look at her. 'Don't be a fool. There is no need for blood to be shed.'

He is about to say something, when a large raven flies up to him, perching beside the king under the mountain. The two stare at eachother for a moment, apealing to have a small confersation. Then Thorin looks at the crowd below, giving them his answer.

'I will have war!'

'No!'

But no one pays heed to her cry, as rumbling is heard in the distance. On top of the hill an army has arrived. An army of heavily armoured dwarves, lead by a huge dwarf on top of a battle pig.

It apears Thorin's reinforcement has arrived just in time.

'Who is that?' Várar asks as she looks at the leader.

Her whole life she has never seen dwarves before. And now they seem to come no end to those dwarves. Through the loud cheering of the dwarves of Erebor, Várar can barely hear someone anser her question.

'Ironfoot.'

'_Rush the shield-fence!_' her father orders his soldiers, riding through his army as everyone turns away from the gates of Erebor. '_Várar, return to Dale. It is not safe here!'_

But she disobeys, following anyway. Something she has been doing a lot since her first encounter with the dwarves. But that is not of the matter right now. She has to do something! Something to prefent war between three races. A war where the dwarves will be outnumbered, where she could lose her loved ones. Where she could lose her father.

'_Father please_,' Várar begs as she follows him as they face the oncoming dwarves of the Iron Hills. '_Do not start a war! Please let me talk to them._'

_'I would start a war just to protect you_,' is his answer, pulling the reigns to halt his elk. '_So why would I allow you to talk with that stubborn dwarf king?_'

'Ada...' Várar tries again, but then the leader of he dwarven army begins to speak.

'Good morning,' he begins, adressing the army before him with a polite sneer. 'How are we all? I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn't mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider...just sodding off!'

His eyes scan the crowd, and behind her Várar can hear people clutching their weapons and taking a step back in fear. While others – the elves no doubt – pull out their sword and step forward. A few of the soldiers even move in front of Várar, wanting to protect their princess.

'All of you,' the dwarf continues threatning. 'Right now!'

Then his eyes land on Várar and he smirks, before sending a glare to her father. Immediately the elves point their spear at them.

'It seems you elves really _do_ let females fight your battles,' the dwarf taunts as he looks as Thranduil again. 'But at least you know the good females warriors from the bad.'

Várar glares at the dwarf after his remark. She doesn't really like this one. Is this the true nature of dwarves? Where the ones she had encountered back at home an exception? If this is the true nature of dwarves, she wants nothing to do with them again!

'Come now, lord Dain,' a new voice speaks up and Várar can see Gandalf approacing, Bilbo following closely. 'There is no need for war between dwarves, men and elves! A legionella of orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down!'

But Dain refuses. Stating he will not stand down before a 'faithless woodland sprite' as he called Thranduil, earing a glare from the said elf. Várar glares at Dain as well. No one has the right to insult her father! No one!

He might not always be most tactfull in his manners when it comes to other races. But he deserves respect.

'He wishes nothing but ill upon my people,' Dain continues. 'If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then!'

'I'd like to see you try!' Várar threathens as she nudges Tálagor, but the outstreched hand of he father stops her.

She looks at him in confusion. Why would he stop her? Wasn't he the one who wants this war? But to her surprise she sees her father smirking at the dwarf's statement, confusing her even more. Why is he smiling, while she herself is becoming more and more agitated by the minute? Why is she even agitated? She wants to stop a war, not join it!

After a remark from Thranduil, Dain rejoins his army, preparing for an attack. He yells out a command and the dwarves raise their weapons and cheer. Behind her she can hear the elves do the same, as their armour clatters.

But it is not the Iron Hills dwarves, nor the army behind her that Várar is looking at. No, her eyes are trained at the mountain. While all the dwarves where cheering for Dain, only one seemed to be holding back his cheering. The only fair-haired one. Fíli.

While the others had been cheering, Fíli had a look of dissapointment writen on his face. And even now, he looks dissapointed. So perhaps not all these dwarves want this war... And suddenly a thought hits her. She has found her way to prefent this war!

But before she can even move, a rumbling is heard and Várar looks at the foot of a distand hill. The ground is shaking violently and Tálagor shakes his head nervousely. She tries to calm down her pony, whispering to him, while she keeps her eyes on the hills. Whatever is coming, it isn't good.

* * *

**A/N**

**I'm going to leave you now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thought not much has happened. Only Várar's attitude seems to have changed. Seeing as she is pushed to her limits right now, her dwarven heritage seems to take over, making her really agitated easily.**

**Anyway, feel free to review and I hope to see you next time.**


	15. Chapter 15

**And I'm back again!**

**I felt so guilty for keeping you all waiting for so long and with those kind reviews to motivatie me, I've finished this chapter a lot sooner than planned.**

**So thank you for the motivating reviews and I hope I won't dissapoint you all with this chapter.**

* * *

**Counsel of a Dwarrowdam**

Várar watches in despair as the orcs keep on coming. For every slain orc, two seem to replace it, yet she keeps on fighting. She will not leave her father's side, not with so many orcs trying to kill him!

So she moves Tálagor through the battlefield, taking every orc she sees down, while tryingto stay close to her father. Thranduil seems to have the same thought, for he doesn't let Várar out of his sight. More than once he has taken down an orc that tried to attack her from behind – the cowards. And more than once he had told her to withdraw, wanting her save behind the walls of Dale.

But now that a part of their enemy has taken over the ruins, he is glad to have her close to him. At least now he can protect her. If she had indeed listened to him, she would have had to face that army alone.

'Várar!' Thranduil suddenly cries out to the dwarrowdam, no longer seeing her next to him. 'Where are you going?'

Instead of heading over to the ruins of Dale, like he – and his army – is doing, Várar has turned Tálagor around. The red-head turns her head slightly, to face her father. A look of determination on her face as she answers.

'I'm going to help the dwarves,' is all she says, before taking off towards Erebor.

She has noticed how the dwarves are being slaughtered by the orcs. Though they are able to hold them off, they will not last much longer. They need a leader to help them. And they need one fast!

But she will not be the one to lead them. She beheads an orc, before looking at the mountain in front of her. No, she has no experience or what so ever to lead this army. But _he_ does and he _will_!

'Fíli!' Várar calls out once she reaches Erebor. 'Kíli!'

She jumps off of Tálagor, taking the same path Bilbo had taken, halting in front of the wall. She notices two heads looking over the wall, then she hears a surprised dwarf call out her name. Then someone throws down a rope and Várar climbs up.

'What are you doing here?' Fíli asks in surprise as he reaches out his hand to pull her up.

'I'm going to have a word with Thorin,' she answers, taking his hand. 'He is needed down there. You're _all_ needed down there.'

'Well, good luck with that,' Kíli says begrudgingly as he pulls up the rope again. 'He will listen to no one. Not even his own kin.'

Várar doesn't miss the look the two brothers exchange, but doesn't say anything. She can already tell by the look in their eyes how they feel about this whole situation. So instead she asks them to lead her to Thorin. She will talk to him and he will listen to what she has to say!

As Fíli leads the way, Várar takes in her surroundings. Colossal pillars support the halls as they walk trough them, lit by the golden light of torches. And even though the firedrake has left his mark – and not to mention his stench- Várar realises Erebor once had been a beautiful kingdom. A kingdom her mother had once lived in.

Her lips slowly turn into a soft smile as she follows Fíli. With every step she takes, she feels more and more drawn to this place. It's almost like the mountain is calling out to her. Like it wants her to come home. But it is impossible, Mirkwood is her home! Still she cannot and will not deny she likes it here.

Fíli doesn't miss the amazement in the dwarrowdam's eyes. Her blue eyes taking in everything as they make their way over to his uncle. And seeing the female next to him, makes him wonder what she feels right now.

For he too has never been here before, yet he has always been drawn to the mountain. But Fíli has always been surrounded by dwarves. Most of them have been here before and had always had a longing to return. So it is only natural for him and Kíli to be drawn to the Lonely Mountain.

But what about Várar. Her whole live she has been surrounded by forrest-loving elves. Not one dwarf to tell her stories of the great dwarven kingdom with a longing in their voice. But still, as he looks at Várar, it almost seems as if she's come home at last.

Her shoulders less tense then they had been not too long ago. Her blue eyes shining much brighter. Fíli must admit he finds Várar attractive. He has thought so from the first time they had met. And when he had seen her fighting out there – fighting a battle he should be fighting right now! – his admiration for the dwarrowdam has only grown even more.

In the distance loud voices are heard. Angry voices. Someone has angered his uncle again. Probably Balin or Dwalin, for those two seem to around Thorin the most. Trying to talk some sense into that stubborn head of his.

'I am your _king_!'

The sudden outburst makes Várar stop death in her tracks and Fíli can't blame her. He too is slightly frightened by Thorin. Thorin no longer is the level-headed leader Fíli had always admired. No, his uncle has become unpredictable and obsessed with his gold.

Suddenly Dwalin appears in front of them, looking disappointed. He mumbles under his breath, before he notices the two dwarves standing in front of him.

'It is no use trying to talk some sense into him,' Dwalin says sadly. 'And don't think he will be entirely pleased to see you, lass.'

'I don't care.' Várar looks at the warrior in front of him, noticing the defeated look in his eyes. 'It's _that_ bad, is it.'

It's not even a question. From what she has seen and heard, Thorin has completely lost his mind. And all because of this dragon-sickness.

But it doesn't stop her. Instead, Várar takes in a deep breath and prepares to face the king under the mountain. She hears Fíli telling her to be careful, before she proceeds.

At first Várar can only hear angry mumbling, but then she can see Thorin pacing back and forth. The king under the mountain. Whatever argument he had with Dwalin, it has clearly agitated him. So much he doesn't even hear her walking over to him.

'Ahem,' Várar coughs to get his attention.

It works. But as soon as Thorin looks at her, she takes a step back. The glare he is giving her, makes her wish she was invisible. It sends chilly down her back, she even starts to shiver. What has happened to him? Not even when he had thought her to be an elf had he glared at her the way he does right now.

'What do you want,' he asks coldly. But then his glare turns into a look of surprise and he takes a step towards her. 'You have come back. You have come back to me!'

At first it had come out as a whisper, but then he quickly walks over to her a look of disbelieve still on his face. She has come back to him! He had given up hope, yet here she is. Standing here before him, as beautiful as alway.

He slowly reaches out his hand, afraid he is imagining things. But when his hand comes in contact with her soft skin, he smiles brightly. She's here! She is really here!

'We did it,' Thorin says softly, his hand still on her cheek. 'We finally did it, my love!'

'Love?'

Várar looks at Thorin in confusion as he is caressing her cheek with his thumb.

'After all those years, Erebor is ours again!' Thorin continues, as he comes even closer. 'Smaug is defeated. That filth has been defeated!'

'Thorin, you-you have to listen to me,' Várar begins, feeling flustered by his behaviour. 'You are needed at the battlefield. The dwarves... The dwarves need your g-guidance.'

Várar takes a step back. What is going on? Why is he behaving like this? How can she convince him to fight, if he is making her so uncomfortable? But with every step Várar takes, Thorin takes one long step closer. His royal robes rustling with every step he takes.

His hand no longer resting on her cheek, but now on her chin, gently forcing her to look at him. And his face is dangerously close to her own, making her even more uncomfortable. Never before has she been this close to a male. Only her father and brother and neither had made her uncomfortable like Thorin is doing right now.

She looks into his dark blue eyes, trying to figure out what is going on. Wanting to read them. But the only thing she can find in his eyes is love and admiration.

'Thorin...'

'Shh,' he interrupts, a gentle smile on his face. 'Do not fear, my love. No harm will come to us.'

'W-why do you keep on calling me your love?'

Várar can feel the wall against her back, preventing her to back away anymore. But that doesn't stop Thorin from closing in on her. He chuckles as their bodies are almost touching now.

'After all those years, you still don't know, Gefn?'

Gefn! Of course! Thorin thinks she is Gefn – her mother! But before she can say anything, Thorin closes the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers. Her eyes widen in shock, her body no longer cooperating. And though the kiss only last for a few seconds, it leaves her speechless.

'You have no idea how long I have longed to do that,' Thorin whispers as he places his forehead against hers.

'Thorin, I'm not- I'm not...'

But nothing else comes out of her mouth. She silently stares at Thorin, as he looks back at her. Still those emotions in his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. Wait, where did that come from? She looks away from his intense stare, needing to get her thoughts in order.

Still, she has to admit he has beautiful eyes. A dark blue colour, like the midnight sky. The same colour as Fíli, the same kindness in them.

'Thorin, you have to listen to me,' she tries again. 'There is an war going on outside and your people need you.'

'They will gladly die if that means to keep their king and queen save.'

Queen? How deep do his feelings for her mother run? But if he is so focussed on her, thinking her to be her mother, then how can she reach him? If only she could tell him she isn't her mother. Then again, even if she could tell him, Thorin wouldn't hear her.

Suddenly a thought crosses her mind and Várar looks back at Thorin.

'Thorin, look at where we are standing right now,' she begins, taking his hands in her smaller ones. 'We made it through it all. Erebor is ours again.'

'Indeed it is,' Thorin agrees, leaning in again.

'But it won't be like that for long,' Várar continues, as she tries to hold him back. 'There is an army out there, that is trying to take over our kingdom. Dain and his men are trying to hold them back, but they need a leader. They need their _king_.'

Várar stops for a moment, seeing if Thorin is listening to her now. She doesn't like lying, nor does she like it to pretend to be someone else. But if she can get through to Thorin, by pretending she's her mother, she will put aside her pride.

Even if that means she has to kiss him again.

She finds her eyes travel down to his lips. Maybe she wouldn't even mind. The feeling of the scruff of his beard brushing against her skin had been a...pleasant feeling

'Dain can handle it, my love.'

'No, he can't! He and his man need you at their side. As their guide, their inspiration.'

Thorin looks at her in shock. So it seems her words are coming through! A small smile of victory plays at her lips, but she tries to hide it. Though she has his attention now, Várar still has to convince Thorin to fight this war.

'You have prepared yourself your whole live to reclaim Erebor – look at me Thorin – Do you plan on throwing it all away, just because you are afraid?'

'I'm not afraid!' he growls dangerously, his hands gripping her arms tightly.

'Then why are you not out there, helping your kin?'

Thorin glares at her, but doesn't say anything. She can tell by the way his hands are still clutching her – hurting her – Thorin is fighting an inner battle. His eyes soften for a moment, as he looks down. But only for a moment. Then his glare returns again.

Still, that fleeting moment of softness in his eyes is reason enough for Várar to continue. She is starting to get through to him. Well, _Gefn_ is starting to get through to him.

'My dear Thorin. You have worked so hard to reach your goal. Don't let anyone take that away.'

Thorin looks up in shock as her soft hand is placed on his rough cheek. Her thumb caressing his skin gently. He has missed her so much. He had even forgotten how it felt to feel her touch on his skin. Though he can't remember her demanding demeanour, nor that she had ever pushed his buttons. But she sure knows what to say.

'You are their inspiration, Thorin. They need you.'

* * *

'Well?'

'How did it go?'

'Give him some time,' Várar says as she continues on walking. 'I think I might have gotten through.'

Fíli watches in amazement as the dwarrowdam throws down a rope and climbs over the rampart. With one look over her shoulder, she birds them farewell, before climbing down again.

Every time he sees her, she amazes him again. Proving once again she is no ordinary dwarrowdam. Fíli walks closer to the edge, looking over it. As she makes her way over to the other side, she glances back for a moment. Almost like she hesitates to continue. But then she continues, mounting her pony and takes off.

'Do you really think Thorin will snap out of it?' Kíli asks as he takes place next to his brother.

'Perhaps,' Fíli answers as he turns around. 'Sometimes the counsel of a woman can do more than one-hundred men.'

Though Fíli knows it doesn't take any woman. Just one special one. And in his uncle's case, one special auburn-haired dwarrowdam.

Fíli clenches his fist as he can still see his uncle kissing Várar. He had wanted to make sure Thorin would do her no harm. So he had stayed behind, lingering in the shadows. Watching as Várar had attempted to talk to the king, without success.

Fíli had wanted to interrupt, wanting to protect Várar as the young dwarrowdam had slowly backed away from his uncle. But the look in Várar's eyes, just before Thorin kissed her, made him stop in his tracks. And from there Thorin appeared to be listening to her, so Fíli had walked back to the others. A strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He had wanted to punch Thorin. He _still_ feels like he wants to punch Thorin. But why? Is it because of his lack of leadership? Or perhaps to see if he can get his uncle to snap out of it? Or is it something else entirely?

His eyes find Várar without much effort. Her hair the first thing he notices as she guides her pony - which also has a red coat Fíli notices, causing him to smile slightly - back to Dale. Taking down as many orcs as she can.

And again the young prince has that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. But why? It's not like he has never seen a warrior take down an orc. She may be the first dwarrowdam he has ever encountered to be as capable on the battlefield as she is. But that's what she is. A fierce warrior, who happens to be a female. And a beautiful one a too.

'They are losing the battle,' Bofur says, causing Fíli to look away from Várar.

'Aye,' Gloin agrees sadly. 'Dain and his men are retreating.'

Fíli notices it too. Why is he not out there? Even Várar and her people are fighting a battle that isn't even theirs. And all Fíli can do is sit here and wait for his king to give the order.

But it won't come. Not while his mind is clouded by the dragon-sickness. Not unless Várar has been able to snap him out of it. And even if Thorin can snap out of it, the question remains what will happen. Or if it will happen in time.

With one last look at the battlefield, Fíli climbs down. He can no longer watch, while innocent people die, fighting for a king who doesn't care about them.

Fíli isn't the only one. Soon the others follow, the same gloomy expression on their faces. It's sad to see this company so crestfallen. After all they have been through together. All the perils they have faced. And this is how their journey ends. Trapped inside the mountain, ordered to stay put by their own king.

This isn't how Fíli imagined to die. Not this young, not like this.

Oh yes, he is going to die. He, and all of his comrades. They will all die in here, like cowards. Fíli throws his sword to the ground in frustration. He is _no_ coward. If he is to die by the enemy's hand, he wants to die fighting! Not waiting for the enemy to knock in his door, while he pretends he's not at home!

Someone cries out in pain and Fíli turns to the barricade. Even the pile of rocks can't dim the cries of battle and it makes Fíli even more desperate to fight out there.

'I will not hide behind a wall of stone, while others fight _our_ battles for _us_!'

At the sudden outburst of his younger brother, Fíli turns around. He is shocked to find his uncle walking towards them, his sword drawn. But it isn't the dwarf sword that surprises him. No, what surprises the young prince the most, is the fact that his uncle has stripped down to only a simple leather outfit.

Their king no longer wears his royal robes, nor does he wears his crown. Now, walking towards them, is just the plain looking Thorin. The Thorin Fíli had always looked up to.

But is he really back? Or has he decided they too form a treat to his precious gold?

'It is not in my blood, Thorin,' Kíli continues, approaching Thorin until he stops right in front of him.

'No, it is not,' Thorin agrees. No trace of the madness audible in his voice and Fíli's hope returns. 'We are sons of Durin. And Durin's folk do not flee from a fight.'

Thorin lays his hand on Kíli's shoulder, smiling at his nephew. Kíli smiles back at him through his tears as they touch foreheads. Perhaps all is not het lost.

'I have no right to ask this of you,' Thorin says as he turns to face the others. 'But will you follow me, one last time?'

* * *

**And we have come to the end of this chapter again. Thorin has come back to his senses at last. But does he know it had been Várar and not Gefn? And what's up with Fíli? Why does he has that feeling? What is that feeling?**

**I hope you like the story thus far. I hope you liked the little moment between Várar and Thorin. Even though it didn't mean anything. You all have been so patient with me. And not to mention kind with your reviews. So I thought I could place this little scene somewhere in this chapter as a thanks.**

**Anyway feel free to review and until we meet again!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N**

**Hello me hearties, how nice of you to join me again! I'm glad you're still with me after all these chapters!**

**And finally it is here. The chapter you have all been waiting for! The chapter that answers the question you all have been asking at some point. Will the line of Durin live on? Will Thorin, Fíli and Kíli survive? Will they perish? **

**I already know, but you don't. So I will no longer keep you up. I only want to say one thing, before you continue reading. All I have to say right now is; thank you for the reviews! I'm glad you enjoy this story!**

* * *

**Is This the End?**

Várar ducks as an orcs swings his sword at her. Then she slices her sword across his abdomen, while the creature is still hovering above her. Dark orc-blood flies everywhere as Várar spins around, before standing up straight again and finishes him off.

As the orc falls to the ground, she hears another one approach her. Várar grinds her teeth, as she turns around again. Is there no end to those creatures? With her sword raised, ready to strike the orc.

'Gandalf!'

Várar sighs in relieve as the grey wizards is standing in front of her, instead of another orc. To see a friendly face is a nice change after all those ugly orcs.

The wizard nods at her. Then his eyes turn to something to her left and Várar follows his gaze. A massive troll is coming their way, but is stopped by a handful of human spearmen and arches. As they release their spears and arrows, the troll grunts and growls in pain. Then he falls to the ground. Dead.

_'All hope is not yet lost,_' Várar mutters as she watches the men stand their ground.

Gandalf agrees, stating they might even survive the attack. Suddenly Bilbo cries out for the wizard, causing him and Várar to look at the small creature. Várar hurries over to him, followed by Gandalf after he kills an orc.

'It's Thorin,' the hobbit tells them, pointing at four figures as they head to Ravenhill.

'And Fíli and Kíli too,' Várar says, recognising the dwarves. 'And Dwalin.'

'His best warriors. He's going to cut off the snake's head.'

Várar smiles as she watches the four warriors ride towards the pale orc. Then she turns her attention to the street below. Two rides ride up towards Dale, killing all the orcs in their way.

'Legolas,' she cries out for her brother in relieve. 'Tauriel! Up here!'

Legolas doesn't even look up as he guides his horse to where they are standing. Having heard his sister's voice is enough to know where she is. And with this many orcs around, he has to get to her as quickly as possible.

'Várar!' Legolas calls out for her as he jumps off his horse to embrace his sister. 'What are you doing here? You should be back home!'

But before Várar can respond, Gandalf greets the elf, walking up to them as Bilbo follows him.

'Várar, you need to leave, right now,' Legolas says as he looks at her. 'There is a second army on its way. Bolg leads a force of Gundabad orcs. They are almost upon us!'

'Gundabad? So this was their plan all along. Azog engages our forces, then Bolg seeps in from the north.'

'Wha... The north... Where is the north, exactly?'

'Ravenhill!' Várar answers to hobbit as she turns around to look at the said hill.

Bilbo follows her gaze, to she her looking at the hill. It takes him a moment, before realising it's the same hill a sThorin had taken off to.

'But-but Thorin is up there!' he shouts out. 'And Fíli and Kíli. They're all up there!'

Várar nods, then turns to her brother, saying they need to send them reenforcement. She looks around, hoping to find her father. But all she sees are dead bodies. Suddenly she sees the long figure of her father making his way over to her, his facial expression stoic as he looks around at the fallen bodies. Many of them elves, Várar notices as she looks down in sadness.

Too many have died already.

'Ada!' Várar runs up to the king, wrapping her arms around his tall frame. 'Ada, there are more coming!'

At this news, Thanduil looks at her in shock. But they are on the winning hand. Their enemy is dropping in numbers. How can there be more coming?

'Are you sure?'

Várar nods.

'Yes. Legolas told me himself,' she tells him, releasing her father from her embrace.. 'They are marching to Ravenhill, where Thorin is. We must help them!'

Just when she is about to turn around, a hand reaches out for her, gripping her arm. With a look of surprise Várar stops to look at Thranduil again. Why is he stopping her? There is no time to waste! And why isn't he calling for his troops?

'There will be no more elvish blood spent in defence of the accursed land,' Thranduil answers her unspoken question. 'Nor will I let you or any of my men die because of some dwarf-king.'

'But father, he must be warned!'

But the elvish king just walks away from her, ignoring her pleas. He calls for his commanding officer to retreat. Furious, Várar hurries after her father, not hearing the hobbit volunteer to warn Thorin and his men.

'Father, you can't do this!' she calls after him. 'Father? Father!'

As Thranduil and the elves march through the city, killing orcs along the way, Várar desperately tries to stop him, but he just doesn't listen to her. Yet she keeps on pleading for him to sent out his men to Ravenhill.

'Fine, then I will go by myself,' Várar tells him, finally giving up the hope to have him listen to her.

* * *

The climb to Ravenhill too much longer than she had hoped and for a moment she wishes she had brought Tálagor along. But to bring along her fiery steed, would probably have ruined everything.

Still there are no sounds of fighting or loud orcs. Just silence. Utter silence. But she takes it as a good sign. If only to keep her hopes up.

She tries to catch her breath, when she hears noises coming from her right. Near the frozen lake. Without a second thought, she hurries over to it, only to gasp at the sight.

On the other side of the frozen lake, is the pale orc Thorin had called Azog. But it is not the sight of the pale orc that makes her gasp. It is what he is dragging with him, that is making her gasp. For behind him, he is dragging a bloodied Fíli.

'No,' she breathes as Azog says something to Thorin – whom is standing somewhere to her left.

'No! Run!'

Várar quickly reaches for her bow as the young prince desperately calls for his companions to run. But they don't. With little time, and little skill, Várar aims the arrow as she pulls back the string. A silent prayer leaves her lips as she tries to steady her breathing.

As Azog lifts Fíli up in the air, holding the dwarf by his neck, he raises his other arm to kill him. But just as his bladed arm is coming down, an arrow lands in his other arm. He releases a roar of pain, releasing Fíli from his grasp, causing the dwarf to fall down to the frozen lake.

But Várar doesn't look to see if he will land safely. Instead she has turned around in surprise as soon as the arrow had hit its mark. For it had not been her arrow – it would have been a miracle for her to have even come close to that orc.

Another gasp escapes from her lips, as she sees the shooter. The tall elf still has his bow in his hand, though it now hanging next to his body. His long light hair flowing in de freezing wind as he smiles lovingly at the young dwarrowdam.

'Father!'

'_You are just too stubborn_,' he tells her as he casually walks over to her. '_Leaving Tálagor behind on purpose._'

With a smile she looks over at her pony, thinking about what it must have looked like to see her father astride her pony. Though a tall pony, Tálagor is still a pony.

'Well, it did work, didn't it?' Várar asks as she notices about fifty elves marching up behind her father. 'You came.'

'In fear of losing you, I did indeed.' He doesn't look at her as he speaks to her. His eyes set firmly on the scene at the frozen lake. 'Now you better hurry up to your dwarf, or all of this has been for nothing.'

She looks at Thranduil in confusion, not understanding what he means by that. But she nods and spins around, drawing her sword while doing so. She whispers a soft 'thank you' to her father, before running to the battlefield at the lake. Her father and his warriors following close behind.

'Várar?' someone asks surprised. 'Uncle, look it's Várar.'

Kíli smiles as she runs over to them. His smile growing even wider as he notices the concerned look the young dwarrowdam is giving his brother. When he had seen that arrow piece inside the skin of that filth, he had instantly known it to be Várar to have shot it. No other dwarf would use an elvish arrow.

'Are you alright?' Várar asks as she approaches the four dwarves, her gaze on Fíli.

'Never better,' is his reply, as he smiles weakly.

After Kíli had helped his brother to the other side of the lake, to Thorin and Dwalin, his brother hasn't said much. Only winching in pain, and letting out a gasp every now and then as he had tried to find the least painful position to stand. And even now Fíli is grasping for air every now and then as he bends over slightly, his hand placed over his ribs, as he leans on his sword.

'You were thrown down from that cliff, landing on top of an ice-lake,' she states, quirking a brow. 'Let me have a look at your injuries.'

Fíli objects, telling her he's fine. But Várar ignores him, inspecting him for external injuries first, before checking for interval injuries. A few bruised ribs and a broken ankle. Nothing that can't be healed with time.

But for now, he is unable to fight. That much is clear. Even Thorin can see that.

'Erm, guys,' Bilbo suddenly chimes in, looking over the frozen lake. 'I fear we have company.'

Azog is making his way over to the edge of the frozen lake, his eyes looking at the small company on the other side of the lake. Then he barks out an order, pointing to them. Orcs suddenly cross the lake fast, their weapons raised, ready to kill them.

'Thanks, by the way,' Fíli says as the others draw their weapons, his eyes on his nearing enemy. 'For saving me I mean.'

Várar turns her gave to him, looking shocked for a moment. Then she smiles at him, facing the orcs again.

'Don't thank me,' she tells him, earning a surprised look from him. 'I didn't shoot that arrow.'

'Then who...'

Right then a long shadow falls over them and several orcs fall down. Their bodies pierced with arrows. Fíli doesn't even need to look around to know the dwarves have come to their aid. From what he has seen, the dwarrowdam is never seen without at least one elf around. And with that protective elvenking acting like her father, only a fool wouldn't figure it out.

'Can he fight?' Thranduil doesn't ask Fíli himself. Instead he turn the question to Várar, who answers with a 'no'. 'Then you will bring him somewhere safe. And you will stay with him, understood?'

'But father...'

'Understood?'

With a sigh Várar agrees, before placing her fingers to her lips to let out a shrill whistle. Fíli looks at her in curiosity, daring to let his guard down a little with so many elves around him. Just when he is about to ask her what she is doing, a bloodbay pony hurries over to her.

She whispers something in elvish to him, gently stroking his coat. Then he lowers to the ground next to Fíli.

'You won't get closer to an invitation than this,' Várar says as she turns to Fíli. 'Now hurry up, more orcs are coming.'

'But...'

He wants to fight! He needs to fight! It isn't in his blood to flee like some kind of coward!

'Fíli, listen to her,' Thorin says as he starts fighting the first orcs that have arrived. 'You are useless here right now and an easy target.'

Useless, that stings. But with that said, Fíli has no other choice than to accept this defeat. He too has to admit he is useless right now, but he had wanted to fight next to his uncle and brother. So he sheaths his sword, and climbs on top of Várar's horse. The dwarrowdam climbing on behind him.

How humiliating!

But still, somewhere deep inside, he actually enjoys having her sitting so close to him. With her arms around him to hold onto the reins. Her hot breath in his neck as she talks to the stallion, making the pony stand up and take off again.

But mostly being able to feel her breasts being pressed up against his back as both of them move along with the pony's movement. It makes him feel like nothing he has ever felt before. And even in this situation, he can not help but to silently enjoy this moment with Várar alone.

* * *

Bilbo watches the two dwarves ride off to safety. He understands why Thorin wants Fíli away from the battlefield. He is heir to the throne and a wanted target of their enemy. And with his current injuries an easy target as well.

As for Várar. Well even a blind man can see Thranduil loves her very much. And no father would want his daughter out on a battlefield. And even though he had used Fíli as an excuse, Thranduil had just wanted her away from the danger.

Something glows blue at his side and he looks at his hip to see his sword glowing. Suddenly Dwalin runs past him with a loud battle-cry, his axe swinging dangerously at something behind the surprised Bilbo. The hobbit hadn't noticed the orcs approaching as he had watched the two dwarves leave the battlefield begrudgingly. But now he has become painfully aware of the fact that he is being surrounded by orcs and he even wonders if the handful of elves will be of much use against their ferocious enemy.

Without hesitating, Bilbo throws rocks at the orcs, trusting his aim better than his sword-skills. But with throwing rocks he doesn't kill them. Only agitating them as they fight against the strong warrior blocking their paths to reach the hobbit.

Suddenly Bolg runs out and swings his mace at Bilbo. Luckily he only get smacked in the head with the handle, knocking the hobbit out cold. The world around him turning black, as the battle continues.

How long he has stayed in his world of darkness, Bilbo doesn't know. Only a few moments? Longer? Perhaps even a day? The noises of battle has died out to only a few bladed crashing every now and then. Though whether it is a good sign or not, the hobbit doesn't know yet, for he has not opened his eyes yet.

'No one is to interfere,' a smooth voice commands not too far away. 'This is his fight, and his alone.'

Finally finding the courage to open his eyes, Bilbo blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the bright light. Then he notices the figure standing next to him. Elves.

But they don't seem to notice Bilbo has woken up, having their eyes trained on something in the distance.

Not even when Bilbo begins to sit up straight, do their eyes travel down to the small hobbit. He stares at the elves in curiosity, wondering if they had been protecting him, or just stopped next to him a few moments before.

Then he sees some movement on the ice lake. He turns his attention to the lake just in time to see Azog falls into the freezing water.

'He-he did it!' Bilbo exclaims in joy as the pale orc disappears beneath the ice. 'He actually did it! He killed the pale orc!'

Bilbo smiles brightly, as Thorin bends down to pick up his sword – Bilbo recognises as Orcrist. Thorin seems to be looking at something in the ice, walking away from his cheering comrades. But the cheering suddenly stop as Thorin yells out in pain, a blade piercing through his foot.

Then Azog leaps through the ice and pins Thorin down. He swings his bladed arm at Thorin, who is barely able to block the blow from piercing his chest, by sliding Orcrist in one of the forks of the blade.

Bilbo finds himself watching the scene, frozen on the spot, as Azog uses gravity and his weight to push his blade further and further towards Thorin. Thorin himself struggles to keep the blade away.

It happens in just a blink of an eye. Bilbo needs a few seconds to register what has happened, before he yells out in sheer horror. He can't believe it, yet he can not deny it either, for the blade of Azog is piercing through Thorin's chest, as the dwarf has pierced the orc through the chest as well.

Thorin stumbles toward the edge of the frozen waterfall, before collapsing on his back. It is only then when everything seems to sink in. Even Thranduil seems to be too shocked to react. The only sound heard, the yell of agony.

'Thorin!'

* * *

**A/N**

**That's right, this is where I'm leaving you. How awful of me, isn't it? To leave you with a dying Thorin, without knowing what has happened to Kíli. Your only hope for a living Durin, is Fíli. You must probably hate me now...**

**Anyway, this wasn't completely what I had in mind for this chapter, but I'm not really good at writing action scenes. The most important thing I wanted to have writen in this chapter, was to have Thranduil show up just in time to save Fíli from Azog.**

**I thought it to be too cliché to have the OC save the day just in time. Besides, if you had read a few chapters back, to Várar's childhood, I gave a small hint it wouldn't be Várar to save them. With her not being really good with a bow and arrow ;)**

**Anyway, when you're done mentally killing me, I hope you still enjoyed this chapter. If you do, please don't be shy to let me know by reviewing. And if you didn't like it, you're still free to review. **

**Anyway, I hope I will still see you next time!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N**

**Yay, the chapter you've all ben waiting for. The chapter concerning Thorin's faith. Well, I shall not keep you waiting any longer. You've waited long enough.**

* * *

**Grieve**

Várar watches in horror as Thorin pulls back his sword, allowing the pale orc to piece his chest. Even from where she is standing, she can hear him cry out in pain. Next to her, Fíli cries out for his uncle, as he watches him stab the pale orc as well, killing him.

Without hesitating, Várar turns Tálagor around. She will not deny Fíli his last few moments with his uncle. Even if that means the young prince must be in pain for a while. So she spurs her stallion to speed up, moving towards the frozen lake again.

'Thorin!' Várar cries out as she jumps off of Tálagor, running towards the fallen warrior.

She doesn't take notice of Fíli getting off of the stallion as well, nor does she care. Someone else will help him get to his uncle – wasn't it Dwalin she had just passed by? It's not like she can carry the heavy dwarf anyway.

'Thorin,' she says again, this time her voice quietly as she looks at him, while he is gasping in pain. 'No, don't move, you're only going to make it worse.'

Her voice only above a whisper. Tears in her eyes. But she can't help it, as she slows down her pace, walking over to Thorin, the others following closely. She shivers, but not from icy wind. It is her fear for the severity of his wound that frightens her.

'It's-it's nothing,' Thorin says, coughing a little. 'Just a scratch.'

He smiles weakly at her, as he tries to sit up, but she holds him down. Can't he see he is only making it worse? She scans his body, searching to where the sword had pierced his skin. His clothes ripped at the spot the sword had ripped right through. His armour crushed by the impact of the blow.

No, no, no, no! This can not be happening! He can't die! Thorin can't die!

Blood is smeared all over the ice from where the dwarven king has stumbled across its slippery path. A small moan escapes his lips as he moves his leg, when something catches her eye.

'Oh...' Várar almost whispers, her voice brittle as she looks at his chest again, examining his wound. 'Thorin, you're... That's...'

No words can form as she stares at him in shock, as more tears fill her eyes. He slowly reaches out his hand to wipe away her tears, as she tries to find back her voice. And after taking a deep breath, she finds it, though still brittle.

'You're... You're wearing mithril...'

Thorin roars out a laughter, before breaking into a coughing fit, causing the dwarrowdam glare at him, though he can see the worry in her eyes as well. Then Thorin sits up, rubbing his chest. No doubt that will leave a bruise. Something hits him hard in the face, before he is met by a flash of auburn hair as Várar pulls him into an embrace.

'Don't you ever do that again, you stupid, arrogant jerk!'

By now Fíli has arrived as well, with Dwalin supporting him and Bilbo following closely. All three of them a smile of relieve on their face, after realising Thorin is alright. Though Fíli can't help but to feel worried still. His uncle might be alright, but he hasn't seen his little brother. Not when Várar and he had rushes over to the scene. Not when Dwalin helped him move towards his uncle. And even now, there is still no trace of Kíli.

With the threat of orcs gone now and his daughter safe, Thranduil orders his warriors to leave. There is still a battle going on below and they are needed there much more than here. Wiping the blood off his sword, he sheaths it, before turning his attention to the small part of dwarves – Várar mostly.

With her body still pressed up against the dwarf king, he can clearly see her body shocking softly as she cries on Thorin's chest. Her hands clutching the fabric of his tunic. How she has come to care for these dwarves in such a short time is beyond him. Though, he guesses it has to do with her being a dwarf as well.

And as a father, he has noticed something else as well. Something no father is too thrilled too see in their daughter's eyes. The adoring of another male, a dwarf in this case. And the worst part being that he has seen him look at her in the same manner.

_'She will not leave us,'_ he hears his son say as the elf prince walks over to his father. '_You know that, don't you father?'_

_'Perhaps,'_ Thranduil agrees, his eyes not leaving the dwarrowdam. _'Perhaps not.'_

Legolas turns his gaze from the small female to his father, a mixture of confusion and shock on his face as he realises what his father is hinting at. Then he turns his pale eyes back to Várar. She will not leave them, she cannot leave them! No creature walking this earth is able to keep his sister away from their father. Her whole life she has always been next to him and Legolas knows Várar well enough, to know she will not turn her back to her father just like that.

Besides, Legolas will not even allow these dwarves to take his beloved _gwilwileth_ away from him!

_'Come, Legolas.'_

The prince is about to nod, but quickly changes his mind. He has yet to find Tauriel and he will not return home without her. So instead of following his father, Legolas turns the other way in his search for the missing she-elf.

* * *

Várar watches the Lonely Mountain in despair as the small company moves towards it. Dead bodies lie everywhere. Most of them orcs, but also also elves, dwarves and men that have fallen. Grieve is in the air like a thick mist, suffocating her. The steady footsteps of Tálagor following her, calming her nerves slightly.

Várar glances over at Ravenhill for a moment, hoping, no _praying_, to see the small form of Kíli following them. But every time she turns her head, she sees nothing. No sign of Kíli. There had been no trace of the young dwarf back at Ravenhill. They've searched everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. The only thing Dwalin had found, had been a small black stone with ruins written in it. But that alone had been no sign of concern. No, it had been the place where Dwalin had found the stone, for it lay close to a pool of blood.

She looks at the mountain again, as they are getting closer and closer. Dain and his men are already waiting at the entrance, waiting for the king to return. Elves are waiting there as well, both races grieving for their loss.

'The elves are eager to take you back to that forrest.'

She ignores the sarcasm in Thorin's voice as he walks up to her. With every step he takes, he is in pain, though he tries to hide it. But he cannot hide the limp in his right leg, as he keeps on walking. He will have plenty of time to rest his leg, but not right now. With Kíli missing, he cannot afford to rest!

'And your people are waiting for their king to reclaim his throne. Are you really up for it? You won't be affected by the sickness anymore?'

The question takes him by surprise and Thorin looks at her in shock. Her blue eyes look straight into his as she waits for an answer. It is a fair question, seeing how he had been affected by the dragon sickness not even a day ago. And Thorin has asked himself the same question as well back at Ravenhill.

'I don't know,' he anders truthfully, his gaze turned to Erebor – his home his kingdom! 'But I will fight against it with all my might.'

Várar nods. That's fair enough. As long as there won't be any wars anymore. She has had her share of dead. Too many have died these passed couple of days and men have lost the most. And now that the battle is over, time has come to grieve.

Tonight she will grieve the loss of the many lives together with her family, and tomorrow she will return to Mirkwood with her father. And there she will stay until the time is right to return to the mountain.

Suddenly she notices her brother leaving of of the tents, his face emotionless as he stares ahead of him.

'Muindor!' she calls out, but he doesn't turn to face her, nor does he response.

She calls again, but still the elf doesn't response. She quickens her pace, wanting to know why her brother is so upset. Legolas keeps on staring ahead of him, standing just outside the tent when Várar reaches him. Only when Várar gently places her hand on his arm, does he react.

His eyes show a hint of sadness, which he quickly tries to hide again. But Várar has seen it and she has also seen the glare Legolas had given her, before noticing who she was. It frightens her a bit. She waits for him to say something. But Legolas remains silent.

As she looks at the tall elf, his eyes slowly show the sadness from before as his eyes travel to the tent they are standing in front of.

Várar follows his gaze. She can hear voices come from inside the tent, speaking elvish. Singing a song of grieve and she finds herself move closer to them. Her hand trembles in fear as it lingers in the air, not yet daring to move the flaps. Afraid of what she will find on the other side.

Swallowing thickly, Várar finally finds the courage to continue. She has prepared herself for what she might find, _who_ she might find. The heartbroken expression on her brother's face when she moved towards the tent had told her enough. But still she has to see it for her own.

Yet instead of seeing the auburn she-elf, Várar sees the dark-haired dwarf that had been missing since Ravenhill. Kíli. The dwarf lies on a white bed, with blood smeared all over it. He doesn't move as she slowly moves over to him. And for a moment she fears the young dwarf has passed away. But then she sees his steady breathing, causing her to release her own breath – she didn't even know she was holding it.

Standing next to him, she watches the dwarf prince. His hair messy and smeared with blood, as is his face. She can already see a bruise form on his cheek and he has a split lip. And together with his black eye, she knows he has had a hard time fighting his enemy. Her eyes travel down his bare torso, scanning over all the bruises. But the worst injury the dwarf has, is a stab-wound in his abdomen. Though how severe the wound it, she can not tell. Stitches are placed skilfully, keeping his skin together.

'Oh Kíli, what happened to you,' Várar asks as she gently strokes his head.

A hand reaches out for hers and she lets out a surprised shriek, pulling away her hand as fast as she can. But the hand has a firm grip on her wrist, preventing her to pull away.

'I'm sorry,' she hears a croaky voice say and she finds a pair of brown eyes looking at her. 'I'm so sorry, Várar.'

Kíli winches in pain as he tries to sit up straight, ignoring her pleas for him to lay down.

'I tried – really I tried! But I just... I just couldn't save her.'

Várar tries to fight back the tears that are trying to come out, as she follows his gaze to a bed on the other side of the bed. She had know it right from the moment she had seen her brother's face. When he had looked heartbroken at the tent, Várar had know. Yet she didn't want to believe it. That is why she had refuses to look further than Kíli's bed.

But now her eyes travel over to the other side of the tent, her vision blurred by her tears. Her fiery hair, that's the first thing Várar sees of her best and most trusted friend. Her always smooth and silky auburn hair Várar had always been jealous of. But now it is smeared with blood, as it lays around her body.

Her fair face pale, the small thin cut across her cheek a contrast against the rest of the skin. Her lips no longer holding the kind smile the she-elf usually wears. Her chest remains motionless, even though Várar prays for even the slightest rising and falling of it.

A sob escapes her throat as the tears finally fall down. Slow at first as the dwarrowdam still fights to hold them back. But then she finally gives up the losing battle, causing the tears to cascade down her cheeks faster.

How can it be? How can Tauriel be gone? The she-elf was suppose to outlive her! She'll always be around to protect her, she had told Várar herself!

She feels rage build in the pit of her stomach as she looks at the lifeless form of Tauriel. Rage for Thorin, who so desperately needed to reclaim that mountain of his. Rage for the dwarves for crossing paths with her!

Her hands start to shake as she stares at the motionless body of Tauriel, as the rage keeps on building. Not only because of the dwarves, but also because of her father. If he only hadn't banished her. If only he could see past their races, to see Tauriel to be in love with Kíli.

If only...

If only...

If only...

She lets a sob escape, wiping away some tears – only to have them replaced by new ones. If only is all that remains now. And nothing will change that. No 'if only' will bring back Tauriel.

Another sob.

And it isn't fair of her to blame the dwarves, nor her father. The fault isn't theirs. Nor is it Várar's. Though it feels like it is her fault. She should have been there with Tauriel, fighting the orcs. But then again, Fíli would have died if she had stayed. The thought of losing the dwarf equally painful.

A heaved breath, a hiccup due to a suppressed sob, then yet another sob. She has to stay strong, she will not break down! She is a dwarf, for Aulë's sake!

She brings her hand to her face, wiping away her tears again. And another. And another. Her vision becomes blurry as she keeps on looking at the body of her best friend. For that is what Tauriel has been to her these past years. Her best friend. And now she is gone.

Forever _gone_! Never to see another sunrise again.

Várar straightens her back, as her vision clears at last. The beautiful face of Tauriel the first thing she sees clearly. Her eyes closed.

_'May there be a beautiful welcome for you in the home you are going to,' _Várar whispers the blessing, before gently placing a kiss upon the elf's brow.

As Várar is about to straightens up again, she cannot help herself. Not being able to stay strong, she finally gives in to the deep sorrow she feels within. With a cry of agony, Várar sinks to the ground. Her hands holding her head as she cries out loud. The immense emotion sending shivers down the spine of everyone near enough to hear.

* * *

**A/N**

**Are you crying right now? Come on, be honest. Or perhaps you are laughing? Glad to be rid of Tauriel? Honestly, I liked Tauriel, but I felt it she no longer had any purpose for the story. I mean, let's be honest, Thorin would have never allowed an elf to live in his kingdom and Kíli would never leave his family behind.**

**Anyhow, I'm sorry it's so short. I was going for an emotional chapter, and that emotion would have been lost if I had added more.**

**Well, I hope you liked it anyway. Just let me know in a review.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N**

**I am soooo sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. I was trying to figure out what the next step would be, concerning Várar and all. Should she stay with the dwarves, should she return back to Erebor? How would Thranduil feel about that?**

**So yeah... Anyway I have kept you waiting for long enough, so all I want to do, is to thank everyone who has left a review.**

* * *

**Never Fades Away**

Sad blue eyes stare at a lone figure, standing near a simple grave. Her long auburn hair flowing in the icy wind, causing a shiver run over her spine visibly. Though winter is still a few months away, the temperature is already dropping. The grave had been almost impossible to dig. But as elvish burial customs, Tauriel had to be buried at the place she died.

Thranduil follows Várar's gaze to Ravenhill. Tauriel died at Ravenhill, protecting the youngest dwarf-prince from an orc. But seeing as Ravenhill is constructed of only rocks, the she-elf couldn't be buried over there. So she was laid to rest here, close to Erebor. Close to the dwarf she had fallen in love with.

Yes, Thranduil admits it. The she-elf had fallen in love with that dwarf. Just like his precious Várar has fallen in love with a dwarf. Though he knows he's not the centre of her thought at the moment, as he sees the silent tears cascade down her cheek. And it pains him to see his daughter so sad.

How come things have become so complicated in just so little time? With the coming of those dwarves he has lost his son and probably his daughter as well. He had always known he had to say farewell to Várar, but somewhere he had still hope that day would never come.

But looking at the broken female tells him it will soon be time for them to part ways. Gandalf had been right those years back. Várar does belong with her people and it makes him sad.

_'My lord, we are ready for our departure.'_

_'Are we now?'_ Thranduil asks as his eyes remain on Várar. '_It seems to me one of us is not though.'_

_'My lord?'_

Thranduil finally turns to look at the elf. His face stoic, his mind working over-time. Decisions need to be made right now. But what is he to do?

_'I need to speak to Várar first, before we return back home.'_

With that said, Thranduil walks over to Várar, his heart breaking at the sight of her broken spirit. Not long ago she had been full of life, wanting to seek adventure every change she got. Now she has grown somber, her eyes dull. Even when she looks at him, as he stops next to her, Thranduil can see the conflict in her eyes.

She doesn't know where she belongs anymore. Nor does she know what she wants. As a father he can read her eyes like a book. When she had been 25, Várar run away from home. Planning to leave the elves forever to join the dwarves. And now she fears she has nothing to return home to.

'I can still remember the day she can through the doors, cradling you in her arms,' Thranduil says after a long silence. 'She had been so afraid I had you send back to the nearest dwarvenkingdom. And truth to be told, I intended to do just that. But once I held you in my arms, I knew you belonged to me.'

Várar doesn't move as she keeps on staring at the grave before her. A lone tear rolling down her cheek as the icy wind gently blows over the open field.

'She was my friend.'

'I know she was. And you were hers as well.'

'Father, I don't understand. Why did she have to die? She was one of the best warriors!'

A sob escapes her throat as Várar clenches her fists in a mixture of anger and sadness. Even now it is still hard to accept the loss of Tauriel. And combined with the departure of Legolas Várar has become taken over by her grief.

'Tauriel died protecting the one she loved,' is his answer as he places his hand softly on her shoulder. Yes she had loved that dwarf, Thranduil will no longer deny it. Though it is too late for that now. 'And if it had been you, she would have done the same.'

Várar lets his words sink in for a moment, pondering the over. Then her eyes widen in shock in realisation. Kíli is a very powerful warrior, who Várar doubts she can match. And he had been badly injured. And though Várar is a warrior as well, Tauriel had always been the better one. Could that be the reason why Thranduil had send her away? Because he knew she would have died if she had stayed?

More tears fall down as she realises something else. If that is the case, then Tauriel would have died either way.

'At least she will forever face the stars now. Now come, my child. I still have some unfinished business to settle with the king under the mountain.'

Without a word, Várar takes one last look at the resting place of her dearest friend. Then she follows her father.

* * *

Quick footsteps are heard as she quickly walks through the hallway. The lose strands of her thick dark hair flowing behind her. A message has just arrived for her. But whether it will bring good news or bad, she does not know yet.

'Bring me the letter,' her booming voice sounds as she enters the great hall.

It has been months since she has last heard from the small company. The last news she had received, had been at the beginning of the journey. Telling her they were trying to reclaim the mountain with just the thirteen of them, a wizard and a hobbit as their burglar. That they were going to sneak into Erebor to retrieve the Arkenstone. But from that moment on, Dís hasn't received any more letters.

Her hands tremble as she opens the letter. What will it say? Will it bring good news? Did they succeed? Or will it bring sad news? Either way, the handwriting isn't that of her brother, nor is it that of her sons. Does that mean they had been unable to write? But why?

Does that mean...

No! She mustn't let such thoughts cross her mind!

Instead Dís begins reading, her eyes scanning over the words. The dead of the dragon is the first thing she reads, Erebor now belonging to the dwarves again. But the journey has taken longer than anticipated, for they had trouble with orcs and been held prison by the elves.

A gasp escapes her throat as she reads about a battle between many races. A battle with many losses, though they had come out victorious. Still Kíli had been badly injured and Thorin had almost been killed.

'They are alive,' she whispers softly as realisation sinks in. 'Erebor is ours again!'

This time she raises her voice for all to hear the news. Erebor is once again their. After all those years, the mountain will be their home once more! Her eyes scan over the letter once more, silently thanking Balin for his letter.

She frowns as she rereads a line she doesn't understand. We have found someone I think you would love to meet. What does Balin mean by that? She lets herself ponder over it for a moment, but then decides it isn't important at the moment.

Thorin, Fíli and Kíli are alive and that is all that matters!

* * *

Home, what a strange word indeed. Her whole life Várar had thought Mirkwood to be her home. Her heart had felt at peace and the only moment of doubt had been when the wandering wizard had told her about her true identity. But that had been long ago.

But now, as she walks through these halls of Erebor, she experiences an odd feeling of being home. But how can that be?

She looks at her father as she follows him through the halls, a company of elves surrounding her. But also blocking her view as well. Only a quick glimps of his robes can be seen every now and then. His finest robes – it is beyond her how he even got those so quickly.

What business does her father has with Thorin anyway, that is so important for the both of them to be all dressed up? She looks down at her own dress, the blue and white fabric flowing elegantly with each step she takes. It has been a while since Várar has worn a dress and she has missed it quite a bit. It feels more... proper for a princess.

Still, with the passed events still on her mind, she can't help but feel overdressed. Still she had restrained herself from asking questions when her father had given her the dress. A new velvet dress for the cold winter ahead.

As they enter the throne room, Várar catches a glimps of a couple of dwarves, dressed in their casual attire. Then her eyes travel back to her father's silver robes and the golden armour of the elf-guards. They are indeed overdressed and Várar sighs.

'Lord Thranduil,' she hears the deep voice of Thorin say. 'I thought you would have left already.'

Does she detect a hint of annoyance in his voice?

'I would have, if there it hadn't been for some unfinished business, my lord,' Thranduil answers, after a small bow.

'Then state your business, for I have a kingdom to rebuild,' the king replies coldly. 'I do not have time to deal with business of and elfking.'

From between two guards Várar can see Thorin glare at her father, who in his turn seems unfazed by his cold glare. She has to admit Thorin has a point. From what Fíli has told her, the dwarves from Ered Luin will set for the mountain next spring. And with winter coming soon, they have little time to waste to restore their kingdom.

Still she is curious to what her father has to say. And what his business has to do with her. For Várar is no fool. Why else is she all dressed up, but hidden behind the guards? But the question is why.

'I am sure you can find some time for my business, Thorin.' Várar can practically hear the smirk in his voice as her father answers the king. 'But I will come straight to the point then, to spare you some time. You have something that belongs to my people.'

Something that sounds like a snort comes from somewhere near Thorin, though Várar can't see who it was. Still Thranduil continues.

'And for many decennia there has been a disagreement of to whom the jewels belong to.'

'Our people made the white gems of Lasgalen many years ago, as ordered by the elvenking at that time,' Thorin agrees. 'But your people never payed for them, so the gems rightfully belong to the dwarves!'

'And what if I were to offer you a deal? One you cannot resist, I am sure of it.'

There is some whispering between the dwarves, before Thorin finally tells Thranduil to continue. Now Várar has become even more curious. Her father is convinced the gems are and heirloom of his people, so why offer Thorin a deal?

'The white gems are to stay here, in Erebor. But only if worn by the only one worthy of their beauty.'

With that said, Thranduil steps aside, along with two guards, revealing Várar. The dwarrowdam gasps in surprise as she realises what her father is implying. But why would he do that? Doesn't he love her anymore? Is he still mad at her for releasing the dwarves? Or for disobeying him?

Is this her punishment? Being banished! But why? All she tried to do, was help the innocent!

Tears start to form in her eyes as she stares at her father. She is so confused as she looks into his eyes. For he doesn't look at her with anger in his eyes. Instead all she can see is the love he had always shown.

'I-I,' Várar stammers, looking from her father to Thorin and back again. But no words will come as she stares at her father. 'Ada, I don't understand. _Why?_'

Without waiting for his answer, she turns around. Várar can feel the tears start to fall as she picks up the skirt of her dress, before running away. How can he do that? Why would he do that? He is her father! He can't just toss her aside just like that! He shouldn't!

'I would love to accept your offer,' Thorin begins as he watches the leaving form of Várar. 'But it seems lady Várar wasn't aware of this offer and deserves to have a say in this as well.'

With that said, the king dismissed the elvenking. If Várar is to live in Erebor, it will be her own decision, not because she has to.

* * *

'Have I done something wrong for you to send me away just like that?'

Várar doesn't need to turn to know who is standing behind her. His presence alone a dead giveaway. But she refuses to turn around and look at him. Her sadness now turned into betrayal and anger.

'Do not think I am sending you away, my gwilwileth,' Thranduil says gently as he stares over the grey scenery. 'I am doing what I think is best for you.'

'And why is this the best for me?' Várar snaps, turning her head to look up at the tall elf. 'First you sent Legolas off to find some ranger up in the north. And now... And now you are leaving me behind.' Again tears start to fall down as she looks away. 'Why? Why are you sending us from your side?'

'Legolas was in need of a scenery change,' Thranduil says, the sadness in his voice audible. 'He was in love with Tauriel and he couldn't cope with her passing. I thought it would be a wise decision if he had his own adventure to get his mind of certain things.'

A hand appears in front of her, as Thranduil extends his hand for her to take. She hesitates for a moment, before accepting it, letting him pull her to her feet. Looking up at her father, he is smiling sadly at her. She can still see the love he holds for her. But still, she is so confused.

'As for you,' Thranduil continues, as he starts to walk, her arm linked with his. 'I knew there would once come a day where we had to say our goodbyes. As the mithrandir had said long ago, you belong with _your_ people. And I really mean your people.

Your mother hailed from Erebor, so this is where you belong. You will always be my gwilwileth, Várar. _Always_. But like every father, the day has come to let you go. I do care for you, which is why I have made this decision. Which hasn't been an easy one to make,' he adds with a weak smile. 'But I can see it in your eyes, my dearest. You have a longing in your eyes as you look around. You are drawn to the mountain, and you should. You are, after all, a dwarf.'

Várar looks away from Thranduil, to look at the said mountain. He is right. She can't deny the strange feeling of belonging here. She has had this feeling when she had entered and that feeling hasn't left ever since. But still, her home is in Mirkwood. With her father and brother and...

And there no longer is a home with Legolas and Tauriel to return to, she realises yet again. And what is home without the ones she loves?

'But what if I won't fit in,' Várar asks after a long silence, finally realising her real objections. 'What if – what if I feel all alone?'

Thranduil smiles knowingly as he stops, kneeling down to look her in the eyes.

'You will never be alone,' he says as he caress her cheek. 'For I will always be with you. Just like Legolas. And even Tauriel. For we will always be in your heart. All you have to do, is close your eyes and we'll be with you.'

'I know. But-but that's not the same, ada!' Várar says as she closes her eyes. She doesn't want to leave her father's side. She _needs_ to have her father near. 'They won't understand me. What if they see me as an elf? For that is what you have raised me as, an elf.'

'Gwilgwileth, have you seen the way you are fitting in right now? They all see you as a dwarf, all of them.'

He is right, she knows he is. Father is always right. Well, no. Perhaps not always, but he _does_ what is best for her. He had warned her about the dwarves. He had warned her to stay away from them, for he had known she would end up feeling torn.

But still. What if he is wrong about this? What if this isn't what is best for her?

'But...,' she needs to think. She has to make her point that she just can't stay here. 'But what if I am going to miss you? What if...'

'Oh Várar,' Thranduil sighs as he looks at the young dwarrowdam.

She isn't making things easier for him. Why can't she see that he is doing this for her? If it were him, Thranduil would have left the mountain already. Taking Várar with him to never have her leave his side. _Never_. But it is for Várar he has made this difficult decision.

'You try to see only the negative. Try to see the positive side of things. Of course you will miss me, and I will miss you too. But see this as an adventure of your own.'

'But father, you'll be so far away.'

Thranduil chuckles slightly. She is frightened to leave her family behind, though she is making it by her stubbornness. But this is the right thing to do. To have her leave his side and start living her own life.

'Even though I can't always be near you, doesn't mean I'm not here. Our love is strong and binds our souls together. That is something that will never fade away. Besides, Mirkwood is not even half a day from Erebor,' Thranduil adds. 'You are always welcome, for Mirkwood will always remain your home as well. But the time has come for you to return to your own kind.'

* * *

**And that's it for now. Again, I am sorry for keeping you all waiting. **

**What will happen now? Will Várar agree? Will she obey Thranduil and stay behind? Will she follow him back home? And how will she cope with the different culture, were she to stay?**

**Anyway, I hope you still like the story and how it progresses.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N**

**Hello again, a pretty fast upload this time, don't you think? Well I guess that's what you get when I get sick.**

**So don't hate me when this chapter sucks! I'm still a little feverish while I'm posting, so...**

**Anyway, thank you for your kind reviews. It wasn't my intention to make you cry, honestly! It had been my intention when Tauriel died, but not with the previous chapter.**

**Now I guess you want me to shut up, so you can start reading. Well, all I have to say then, is enjoy!**

* * *

**As weeks turn to months**

His eyes find Várar easily, as she stands outside. Her auburn hair flowing in the wind, as she stares over the landscapes. The elves have left only two weeks ago and the sadness is still evident in her eyes. She had wished to return back to Mirkwood, along with the elves. But King Thranduil had convinced her to stay here in Erebor.

Can you imagine? The person who had raised her – the one whom she calls father – just leaving her behind just like that. He knows why the elf did it though, but he can't even imagine what it must feel like for Várar.

He sighs. It's going to a long winter for the young dwarrowdam if she keeps this up. There won't be many dwarves around, not until spring. And if she's already feeling lonely, how will she feel in a couple of months?

Well then... Perhaps he should talk to her, making her feel welcome here. So he gathers up his courage and moves towards the dwarrowdam.

'Várar?'

At the sound of someone calling her name, Várar turns her head. A lone tears rolling down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it away.

'Balin,' she says, greeting the dwarf.

Fíli turns his head towards the said dwarf as well. It seems he has waited too long yet again. For the passed two weeks the young dwarf hasn't been able to talk to the female. Unable to find anything to say to her. And every time he had almost found his courage, she was needed somewhere.

'It's getting dark, my dear,' the white-haired dwarf says as he walks over to Várar. 'It might be wise to get inside, or else you might get lost.'

'I guess you are right, Balin,' Várar agrees with the elder dwarf, a weak smile on her face.

She's doesn't want to get inside, that much is clear to the young dwarf-prince. The longing look in her eyes betray how she feels, as she glances back at the horizon. Then she turns around, starting to head inside.

'I can stay here if you want,' Fíli says, finally announcing his presence.

Várar stares at him in confusion, while Fíli silently wonders where his courage had come from. And why would she want to stay with him out here anyway? He hasn't been around her as much as Thorin and Kíli have been. With his brother being in pretty bad shape and in need of Várar's healing hands. And with his uncle telling her stories about Erebor, having her hanging on his lips.

'I-I er I mean,' Fíli stammers as the dwarrowdam still looks at him, waiting. 'You can stay a bit longer out here that way. I will guide the way once you want to head back.'

He is such an idiot! "Guide the way"? What is he thinking? That had sounded terrible, just terrible! She must think he's an idiot as well. And what was that all about with his stammering? He never stammers! Never! So how come he is stammering right now?

Várar smiles at him, thanking him with a nod of gratitude. Then she bids her goodbye to Balin as the dwarf makes his way towards the mountain again, before turning towards the scenery again.

'She sure is a good catch, lad,' Balin whispers, patting Fíli's shoulder.

He turns his head towards the elder dwarf in confusion for a moment, before realising what the dwarf if hinting at. His ears turn red as heat rises to his head in embarrassment.

'It's not... I don't like her like that,' he says quickly, but all he gets is a knowing look.

'Sure you don't, laddie. Sure you don't,' Balin winks at him, then he leaves, a smirk plastered on his face.

Fíli stares at Várar for a moment, thinking of something to say or do. He has really thought this over, hasn't he. So what now? Is he suppose to sit next to her? No, that might be too personal, they don't know each other that well. Well, then he should take this opportunity to get to know Várar more, shouldn't he? But where to start?

Fíli really wishes he has had some experience with young dwarrowdams. How is he suppose to behave? He had known when they were still on their journey to reclaim Erebor. He had known when Thorin had succomb to dragonsickness and even during battle.

But now, with everything quiet down?

'Well, are you just going to stand there, waiting for me to returned the mountain? Or are you going to join me and enjoy the scenery?'

Fíli looks baffled at the smiling dwarrowdam, before smiling back at her. At least she doesn't mind his company, so that's one fear down.

'How come I haven't seen you around that much,' Várar asks as the prince takes a seat next to her. 'I seem to have spoken to everyone, except you. Why is that? Am I a nuisance to you?'

What! Has he made her feel like she is a nuisance to him? For she most defiantly is not!

'I understand,' she continues, looking down at her lap. 'For I have done nothing but sulking these passed two weeks.'

'No, no no,' Fíli quickly says, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. 'You've got it all wrong! You are not a nuisance! You have every right to be saddened, every right.'

She turns her head to look at him and Fíli feels the heat rise again as she looks at him with her blue eyes. For a moment he wonders if she is bothered by his hand on her shoulder and he is about to withdraw it. But the weak smile she gives him prevents him to do so.

'Listen, Várar.' How come he hasn't noticed how nice it feels to say her name? 'You have been through a lot. You have seen so much dead in so little time. You have seen battle and bloodshed before you were ready.'

'But you are my age,' she says as tears start to form in her eyes. He is making her cry. Mahal, he is making her cry! 'How come you aren't bothered by it all?'

'Believe me, it's not that easy for me as well. Though I can hide it well. Besides, I have been prepared my whole life, seeing small battles between dwarf and orc happen. Not a lot, and nothing compared to the passed battle. But it has prepared me. And I haven't lost anyone dear to me.'

Várar remains silent, letting his words sink in. A tear slowly rolls down her cheek, as she looks down at her hands. Fíli mentally kicks himself for his mistake. He had to bring it up. Why did he have to bring it up? He knows she blames herself for the death of the she-elf.

He has to do something! Anything! Why is this so hard? He had wanted to stay behind and have a nice conversation with her. Not make her remember the passed events or make her cry!

'Besides, you work hard,' Fíli continues, as he tries to corrects his mistake. 'You help Oin cure our injuries. If it wasn't for you, uncle's foot would have become infected and who knows what would have happened to Kíli.'

He smiles at her in gratitude. He really means it. If it hadn't been for Várar and her knowledge of elvenmagic, his uncle might have lost his leg – or worse, his life- due to the starting infection.

'Speaking of injuries, you haven't let me check yours.' Várar looks at him, concern in her eyes. 'How are your ribs?'

'It's nothing,' he quickly waves it off, a blush on his face. 'Just bruised.'

She laughs a little, soon followed by his own laughter. A sharp pain enters his body, and Fíli winches a little, rubbing his ribs. The action making Várar laughing some more.

* * *

'You did _what_?'

Laughter fills the chambers as the two dwarf-princes tell Várar about their first encounter with Bilbo. About how they discussed about his name – mister Baggings or mister Boggings – in which Fíli had turned out to be right. About Kíli scrapping the mud off his boots on a chest – which turned out to be the glory box of Bilbo's mother. And with Fíli practically throwing his swords and daggers in the poor hobbit's arms.

'Yeah, that was quite a first impression we made then,' Kíli laughs, rubbing his head. 'You should have seen his face when I did that. And when the others came after us. Ha, he wasn't pleased about it one bit.'

'Turned out Gandalf hadn't informed him of our coming.'

Várar laughs again, looking at both dwarves. It feels good to laugh again. It has been a while since she has had a good laugh. But after her first real confersation with Fíli, things seemed to have changed for the better. And with Kíli healed, the two brother's seem to have made it their mission to keep her entertained.

'Poor Bilbo,' she says, a smile on her lips. 'I can imagine him to be mad about having unexpected, poor mannered, guessed showing up on his doorsteps. Invading his home and plundering his pantry. It's a miracle he even went on this journey with you all.'

Another roar of laughter is heard and Fíli has to hold onto his ribs to prefent them from hurting - his ribs are still sore, even after two months. It has become easier to talk to Várar whenever his brother is around. With Kíli having formed a friendship with the dwarrowdam while they were still in the dungeon, Fíli gladly takes advantage of it.

'You should have seen us back at Rivendell then,' Kíli smirks, remembering their stay with the elves. 'We burned their furniture to build a fire.'

'Really?'

She looks at Fíli, not believing the younger dwarf. But Fíli smirks, nodding to conform his brother is telling the truth.

'You guys are horrible.'

But her eyes tell a different story, with her eyes sparkling as she tries to hide her smile. But failing miserably.

'Aye, that they are,' a new voice says, making them turn towards the door. 'But you will get used to them.'

Kíli chuckles as he looks at his uncle, while Thorin smirks at both his nephews. With everything turned back to normal, Thorin has changed. For the better! And like no other king Várar has ever seen or heard of.

For instead of sitting on his throne, letting others do the hard work, Thorin joins them, working hard to rebuild Erebor. A trait Vàrar admires. She has watched many times in humour, imagining her father doing hard labor. Something he would never even think of doing. Even while on the battlefield, he had still remain as majestic as always.

'I doubt that,' Vàrar says, smiling as she looks at the brothers. 'I mean, look at them. They even lack manners. Especially Kíli.'

'That hurts,' Kíli says, looking hurt. 'It really does. And here I was thinking we were friends.'

'More like acquaintances,' she replies with a wink, seeing the playful twinkle in the younger dwarf's eye. Then she turns to face Thorin. 'I am sorry,_ your highness_. Is there something we can do for you?'

His lip curls up slightly, catching the playfulness in her voice. She knows she doesn't have to use his title. No one dear to his has to call him by his title. But at times she does, usually mocking him. A reminder of how young these three dwarves in front of him still are. It is a nice change after all they have been through. Though their laughter is nothing like the laughter of dwarflings, it fills the halls with a homely warmth.

He eyes his nephews as both of them laugh. Though they had tried to be optimistic during their journey, smiling and laughing no matter their trail, there had always been a certain edge to it. It hadn't always been right from their heart. But now the edge has disappeared again, and Thorin finds himself enjoying just listening to their laughter.

'If you must know, _my lady_,' Thorin begins, copying Vàrar. 'I want to have a word with you.'

At this, the dwarrowdam looks at him in surprise. She quickly wonders if she has done something wrong, but she dismisses the thought as quickly as it had come. She has helped out the best she can since her arrival. Helping Oin with the injured being one of the tasks she has been assigned to.

Bombur had asked her assist him with cooking, but she had looked at him like the dwarf had grown an extra head. As a princess she has never cooked something in her entire life, she would have poisoned everyone in an attempt to make a meal. Especially with all the extra mouths to feed, seeing as Dain and his men have decided to stay until the first day of winter. That way they should be able to clean things up for when the first party from Ered Luin arrives.

But while Várar doesn't cook, she does clean the rooms, restoring linen and clothes and washing them. And of course washing the clothes of the dwarves. Luckily the women of Laketown had helped her out in the beginning, teaching her how to do the laundry and how to hang them to dry properly – her first attempt had been pathetic, with the sheets all wrinkled. And while the women had tried not to laugh at her first attempt, they could hardly muffle their giggles.

Not that Várar had minded. She had been laughing as well, though proud of herself. Who would have guessed she maids had such a hard time doing their chores? For she had always thought them to be quite easy. And while Vàrar had learned to sew while she was still a dwarfling, the women still had a few tricks for her to learn.

While thinking about it, her eyes catch sight of her king's robes as she follows him outside. Which she hadn't even noticed, until the cold air hits her. But the robes Thorin is wearing right now had been her first she had washed with success. And again she feels proud, just by looking at the thick fabric.

'Well, you have brought me here,' Várar begins, breaking the silence. 'What is it you wished to talk to me about?'

As she eyes the king, noticing the troubled look as he faces her. So there is indeed something troubling him, but what?

'I wanted to apologize to you.'

He gently takes her hand in his as he tries to find the right words. He has had a hard time to find his courage, she can tell by the way he is struggling to find the right words. But what she doesn't understand, is why he feels like he needs to apologize to her. And why? He hasn't done anything wrong, not that she knows.

In fact, he has taken her in. Giving her time to adjust. Never bothering her when she needed some time alone. And she had needed it a lot during her first few weeks. Only after her long talk with Fíli she had found herself enjoying her stay in Erebor. And enjoying the company of the dwarves – though she still thinks they are unmannered. She especially enjoys the company of Fíli and Kíli, whom she has learned to remember who's who.

And why is she thinking about Fíli and Kíli anyway?

'I should not have kissed you when…'

'… You should not apologize for something you had no control over,' she quickly interrupts him, knowing right away what he means. 'You were under the influence of the dragonsickness. You weren't yourself and when you saw me, you thought I was my mother.'

'Still, I should not have done that,' Thorin replies. 'Will you forgive this foolish dwarf?'

'I have forgiven you from the moment you came and joined the battle.'

Thorin smiles at her, then gently brings her hand to his lips. He whispers a 'thank you' before kissing the back of her hand.

'Why don't you tell me more about my mother,' Vàrar says after he releases her hand. 'I know so little of her. All I know is that I look a lot like her.' She turns her back to Thorin, moving closer to the railing, her eyes scanning the scenery below. 'What was she like?'

'Gefn, was a perfect image of a lady of the court,' Thorin says, walking over to her. 'A proper lady, doing what was expected of her. She would never approve of you knowing how to handle a sword.'

Várar listens intently as Thorin tells her about her mother. Never interrupting him, only when he begins about her father. All she wants to know right now, is about her mother. And while Vigr might be her father by birth, it is Thranduil is will always be her father.

* * *

'I can't believe him!'

'Who?'

'How could he do that!'

'What?'

Kíli looks at his brother in surprise as he watches Fíli pacing around angrily. Fíli had gone to get himself something to drink, but came back just a moment ago, apparently pretty pissed off at someone.

'What is he thinking!' Fíli growls as he finally faces his brother. 'He is twice his age!'

Oh, so that's what's going on. Kíli had known his brother has a soft spot for Várar. It hadn't been that hard to figure it out. With his brother acting strangely whenever the said dwarrowdam is around. Even showing of his fighting skills. Something Fíli would normally never do.

But looking at his brother now has made Kíli realize his brother might even be in love with her. If he acts so protective about her, just because their uncle is spending time with her. Apparently taking about her mother. And who can blame her for wanting know know about her mother?

Kíli had wanted the same thing with his father, never knowing him himself. Kíli had been only a few years old when his father had passed away, so he has no memories of his own. But the stories other tell him, make that he can imagine how his father used to be.

He continues watching his brother in amusement, as Fíli is pacing back and forth. Indeed, Fíli has it really bad. And he doesn't even know it himself!

* * *

**A/N**

**And that was another chapter of 'Nothing I Have Ever Known'. I hope I didn't disappoint you. **

**It seems like Várar is settling down, spending her time with the two brothers. And what's up with Fíli? Is it me, or is our dear dwarf prince jealous? And what is becoming of the relationship with Thorin and Várar?**

**I know one thing. We are getting close to the part I have been wanting to write for quite some time now. **

**Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter. Or better yet, about the story so far. How it has progressed into what is it right now. Or perhaps your thoughts about Várar? Your expectations or predicaments?**

**I'm quite curious, so just let me know. Besides I always love reviews. They are motivating and help me become a better writer.**

**Well, I do hope you've enjoyed this chapter enough to continue reading the upcoming chapters.**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N**

**Hey you guys. I am terribly sorry for taking so long! I didn't know how to write down this chapter. Writing it, rewriting it, before deleting the whole chapter to start over again. Anyway, I'm back with a new chapter. Hopefully you'll like it.**

**Also, I have decided not to name the chapters anymore. Why? Because it's really hard to think of one that doesn't give away its contents. So from now on, it will be 'Chapter ...'**

**Anyway, thank you for your review, FlowerChild23.**

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Fíli sits on the cold stone statue, just staring ahead. The winter has turned the world white and the sky grey. Snowflakes slowly fall down and every now and then the prince needs to wipe them off his face.

He doesn't understand. Why is he feeling this way? Why does he always seem to be angry with his uncle? Thorin hasn't done anything wrong, has he? Not that Fíli knows of. He has been nothing but a good king, except for when he had been under the influence of the dragonsickness of course.

Fíli sighs. Somewhere he knows why he is angry with Thorin. He has known for a while now. But he has tried to deny it. He had denied it when Balin had mentioned, he had denied it when the others had started. He even keeps on denying every time Kíli mentions it. But they al smile at him knowingly.

Still, Fíli has kept on denying, telling himself it couldn't be true. But there is no denying it any longer. He is in love with Várar. And that is why Fíli is so angry with Thorin. Because Várar seems to be spending a lot of time with his uncle, seemingly enjoying his company. And Fíli knows his uncle doesn't mind her company at all.

'You're reading too much into it, brother,' Kíli had said to him more than once.

But Fíli doesn't believe his brother. Kíli didn't see what he has. Kíli hasn't seen Thorin kiss Várar. But Fíli has, and the thought still angers the dwarf-prince. Thorin _does_ want Várar to be his, even if Kíli dismisses the thought.

Something moves to his left and Fíli looks down to see Várar walking towards the valley. She does that at least once a week, he has noticed. Visiting the grave of the she-elf –Tauriel – and sit there for a long time. Sometimes she just sits there, with her arms wrapped around her knees. Just staring ahead to where Mirkwood lies. Other times she cleans the grave from freshly fallen snow.

She misses her home, that much he knows. Though she smiles brightly during most days, some days she just stares into the distance, her mind clouded by thoughts only she knows. Not that he can blame her. Elves are different from dwarves, a lot! And while Várar is a dwarf, she was raised as an elf. More than once she has mentioned the dwarves to be poorly mannered, looking in disgust as the others shove throw back their ale and letting it poor down their beards.

It has made Fíli quite aware of his drinking, paying attention to how he drinks his. Only to please the dwarrowdam. And for what? She likes his uncle, not him!

And once again he finds himself being angry with Thorin, while glaring at the young dwarrowdam. He moves slightly, his leg becoming slightly numb in his current position. But by doing so a few stones fall down and Várar turns around. Fíli silent prayer for Várar not to look up is in vain as she quickly spots him.

'You might want to be careful, Fíli,' she says with a smile. 'It seems slippery up there.'

'How did you know I was up here?'

'I've noticed you climb that statue whenever you want some time alone.'

A simple answer, still Fíli can't help but have that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. She has noticed him! She has noticed what his favorite spot is! His ears turn a soft pink tint as he looks at her in surprise, glad he can blame the cold air for his flustered appearance. Then he climbs down.

'Are you going to visit your friend's grave?'

Várar nods. Now that he is standing in front of her, he notices her pink cheeks and ears as she looks at the ground for a moment. It makes her look cute as the cold wind gently breezes through her hair.

'You are welcome to join,' she says, brushing her hair out of her face. 'If you want to, I mean.'

Fíli misses the color of her cheeks darkening as she avoids looking him in the eye. Instead he is fighting to keep his blush from spreading across his face, not wanting to show the dwarrowdam he likes her. But why? Why is he fighting his own feelings? Should he not deserve a chance?

And why is she asking him to join her? Is there a hidden message? Does she like him as well? Impossible! She is only trying to be nice to him. That's the only reason! Why would she like him, if she could be with the king?

But still, he doesn't want to miss his opportunity to spend some time alone with Vàrar.

'I would love to.'

* * *

Vàrar is happily chattering with Thorin, a smile continuously present on her face. Every now and then she laughs – no _giggles_ – at something he says, with him chuckling as well. Fíli has no idea what they are talking about, but it sickens him to see the two of them together. Várar should be spending time with _him_, not with his uncle.

He growls, turning his head away. It seems everywhere he turns, he sees Várar. Not only with Thorin, but with Kíli and with Oin as well. Kíli, because his brother just likes spending time with her. Oin, because the dwarf likes to learn about the healing skills Várar knows. Teaching her his way, while she teaches him things as well.

With a sigh, Fíli leaves. He needs some fresh air! He's had enough of Thorin for now. Right now he needs to get outside. As he walks into outside, the cold wind greets him. But the young dwarf prince doesn't care. Today actually seems to be a little warmer than yesterday. Though the temperature will drop drastically once the sun goes down – which will be in about an hour or so, judging by the position of the sun.

As he lights his pipe, Fíli stares at the horizon. In about two months the first party from the Blue Mountains will arrive. Meaning his mother will arrive as well. He misses her, he really does. He has never been away from home this long. Well actually, this is his home now. But now he's here without his mother. The one who has raised him, the one who has always been there for him.

She would know what to do. She would always give him the right advise, whether he asks for it or not. And though most of the times he hates to admit it, he really appreciates her help and advise. But as his people say 'mother knows best', well, his mother does know best indeed.

Exhaling through his nose, he closes his eyes. He respects his mother _and_ his uncle. But right now he also feels a wave of jealousy every time he sees Thorin with Várar. Wishing it to be _him_ the dwarrowdam is laughing with. Wishing it to be _him_ to make her giggle.

'You seem to be in a foul mood, lad.'

Fíli turns his head to see Bofur standing next to him, a grin on his face.

'Y'know, I heard something very interesting today,' the hatted dwarf continues, as he takes out his own pipe. 'Something about a certain young dwarrowdam.'

Now that got his attention. Trying to hide the look of curiosity, Fíli stares ahead of him. The last thing he needs is for Bofur to know he likes her. Bofur – as good a dwarf he may be – will never be able to keep it a secret. Which means he will eventually tell Várar and that's something Fíli rather avoid.

'Rumor has it, she likes a certain dwarf. Well, it's not so much a rumor, just an assumption. She's always around him and he is almost never without her at his side. Which makes one wonder…'

'It is no secret Thorin likes Várar,' Fíli spits out in anger, before realizing his mistake.

Bofur remains silent as Fíli awaits his reply. But after a moment of silence, the young prince sighs in defeat and turns to face the dwarf. An even bigger grin has formed on his face as Bofur looks at Fíli in amusement.

'Aye, Thorin likes Várar,' he agrees. 'But judging by your reaction Thorin isn't the only one. Though I can assure you, his intentions are much more different then you thing, lad. He sees the lass as a daughter.'

Again Fíli snorts. A daughter, right. Then why does his uncle always seem to be around her? Making her laugh. Fíli is no fool. He has seen his uncle kiss her once. Sure he had been under the influence of the dragonsickness. But it means his uncle must feel something for her. And Várar had allowed him to kiss her, so she must feel something for Thorin as well. Besides, they have spent a lot of time together down in the dungeons of Mirkwood.

'You don't believe me?'

Fíli shakes his head. It's all so clear, why can't Bofur see that as well? Who else would Várar like, but Thorin? Mahal, he is king! That alone should be enough for any dwarrowdam to want to be his! And it is clear – to Fíli at least – that the two of them are really close.

'You are quite dense then, lad,' Bofur states, his voice serious this time. 'It is obvious she fancies you. The two of you are spending a lot of time together. Both of you seeking your comfort outside. And if I remember correctly, you are the only person she has accepted to join her while visiting the grave of the she-elf. Well, except for Kíli of course.'

'You are seeing things, my friend,' Fíli says, waving off the spark of hope his heart hold. 'Várar and I are nothing more than friends. There are no romantic feelings involved.'

'Ha! Says the dwarf with a face like a tomato every time the lass stands near you!' Bofur laughs even harder as Fíli glares at him, his ears red in shame. 'Oh, don't deny it laddie. I have seen the both of you, strolling through the halls. _Side by side_, as she laughs at some joke _you_ tell her.

Have you never noticed her looking around, until her eyes find you, just to smile at you? Even if she is spending time with Thorin? Who by the way is teaching her Khuzdul, in case you are wondering. Her whole face lightens up, every time she sees you!'

At this, Fíli stares at Bofur in surprise. Does Várar really fancies _him_? The way his companion is talking about her, makes him think she does. Has he really been that dense? Has he missed the signs? The secret looks? Then what else has he missed!

While Bofur keeps on rambling about the signs, Fíli's mind drifts off to an event a few weeks back. When she had asked him to join her to visit Tauriel's grave. The way she had been looking at the ground… He had not read anything into it back then. But could it be shyness? Or is he reading too much into it?

'Perhaps you and the lass should have some quality time together when she gets back, hm?'

'Wait, what?' Fíli looks at Bofur in surprise. 'Where is she going?'

'To the elves of course! I overheard her saying to Thorin she needed to talk to her father about something.' Bofur pauses for a moment, seemingly in thought. Then he continues. 'She seemed pretty confused about something, that much I could tell.'

* * *

Fíli watches the sunset in boredom. Witch most of the mountain livable, there isn't much to do anymore. For Thorin thinks it's better to wait for the dwarves of Ered Luin to arrive. Then they can start working on the halls deeper inside the mountain. A thought Fíli shares. Though they have been able to clear and restore part of the mountain, they are no builders. Toymakers, yes, and a couple of warriors. But no builders. Though there will be a lot of them, once the first party arrives in just a few more weeks. A small smile forms on his face as the young dwarf thinks about seeing his mother again. It has been almost a year since they had left Ered Luin, not knowing what danger they would face along the way.

With orcs chasing them, and almost being ripped apart by wargs and of course Beorn the skinchanger. Or being captured by elves only to be rescued by their beautiful princess…

His blue eyes stare ahead in sadness, remembering Várar. She had left Erebor over two weeks ago, she should have returned already! It is only a half day ride, even though it is winter. Why hasn't she returned yet? Did something bad happen? Did the elf king have a change of heart? Will he no longer allow Várar to return to Erebor? Or perhaps Várar has convinced him not to have her return to Erebor? But it seemed like she enjoyed being here!

Fíli sighs. He has wanted to talk to her about his feelings after his talk to Bofur. But he fears he might not have the chance. Not if she will stay in Mirkwood, with the elves. Not that he can blame her. Even he admits dwarves are poorly mannered compared to elves.

He is about to turn around, when he spots something move in the shadows of dale. At first he thinks he is imagining things, but then he can see the former of a horse and a rider making their way towards Erebor. A blood bay and his auburn-haired rider! She has returned!

'Várar, you're back,' he says enthusiastically as she rides up to him, a bright smile on her face as she sees him. 'Is everything alright? You've been away for so long.'

Once she halts Tálagor, Fíli surprises her by helping her off her pony's back, gently placing her on the ground. Várar mutters a shy 'thank you' as she looks at the ground. Her ears and cheeks turning slightly red as she brushes her hair out of her face.

How Fíli even missed those signs in the first place is beyond him. Perhaps he had been too blinded by his jealousy? Not that is matters anymore. Now he notices the small signs Várar makes. The blush on her freckled face, her brushing her hair behind her ear. The small shy smile she gives when she looks at him.

'I've missed you, you know?' Fíli says softly, a hand still resting on her hip, while the other holds onto Tálagor's reigns.

'You did?'

Her bright blue eyes widen in surprise as she looks up at him. The light of the red sun shining brightly on her hair, giving it a fiery look while the wind gently plays with it. Fíli silently nods as he admires her beauty. Yes, he has missed her. A lot!

'Yes, I did,' he finally answers huskily, his hand moving from her hip to cup her cheek. 'What took you so long anyway?'

'I-I-I I had to discuss something with-with my father,' Várar stammers as she looks him in the eye. Her face turning even more red as his thumb gently brushes against her skin. 'And… And after that I-I needed to clean my mind.'

Fíli hides a smirk as he looks at Várar, leaning in slightly. It seems Bofur might have been right about his assumption as to why Várar needed to see her father. According to the dwarf it had been because she might have been confused about her feelings she might harbor for Fíli. And seeing her standing here, Fíli must agree with him.

'And, have you sorted things out, hm?' She nods silently. 'Good. Because there is something I need to tell you.'

'Well, look who's back. Took you long enough!'

Fíli sighs in frustration as he turns to see Kíli quickly making his way over to them. He will murder his little brother for this!

* * *

**A/N**

**Aaaand that's the end of chapter 20. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. Seeing the jealous part of Fíli again. And darn that Kíli, ruining the moment...**

**Anyway, love hearing your thoughts on this chapter and/or the whole story and character devolepment. I love reading reviews and reread them a lot. To keep me motivated and to see where I could improve. So, if you can spare some time...?**

**Next chapter, Várar will finally meet Dís. Yes, finally. My fingers are already itchy to write it down and develop Dîs her character around the discovery.**

**Hope to see you next time!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N**

**I am so terrible sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. As some of you might know already, I have been in a really dark place, where even writing couldn't give me any joy at all. And while I'm still not where I should be, I'm working on it.**

**Anyway, thank you for your patient and I hope you'll enjoy chapter 21!**

* * *

**Chapter 21**

Várar tries to concentrate on her breathing, but how is she suppose to do so, when _he_ is standing right behind her! His body slightly touching hers as she feels every breath he takes. The small movement sending shivers down her spine.

With a flustered look, the dwarrowdam tries to listen to the dwarf. But her concentration is nowhere to be found. Not with Fíli touching her arm like that! Not with his hand resting on her shoulder, pulling it down slightly.

'You are too tense, Várar,' Fíli says softly, causing his braided mustache to tickle her skin. 'Try loosening up a bit. Yes, that's more like it. And lower your arm, like this.'

He gently guides her arm to the right angle, before whispering a soft 'release' in her ear. Obeying the prince, Várar lets go of the arrow watching as it comes closer to the target. With a soft 'thud' it hits its mark, earning a smile from the dwarrowdam. She has never it her mark dead in the center, not with her elven bow.

'See, nothing to it.'

Turning her head towards the golden-haired dwarf, she notices the proud look on his face as he smiles at her. Nothing to it? She has spent ages trying to master it, never really improving and her hits barely mentionable. She couldn't even kill an orc even if he was to stand a few feet away.

'If that is the case, my prince, I should have shot that arrow myself back at Ravenhill.'

His face darkens at the memory. Almost getting killed by the pale orc isn't one of his most memorable memories. But then his smiles again and winks at Várar.

'If you had shot that arrow yourself, my lady, I fear that would have been the last thing I would have seen before joining my forefathers.'

Várar laughs at this, agreeing with the prince. But her laughter soon fades as she notices just how close they are. With her chest pressed up against his, his lips mare centimeters from her own as she looks up.

Her heart working overtime as she takes in his features and she fears Fíli might feel her quickened heartbeat. Heat rising to her cheeks. Yet she dares not to look away as his blue eyes stare down at her with a strange emotion in them. A faint blush spreads across his face as well.

His hands haven't left her shoulder yet and it is now she notices his other hand is resting on her hip. His hold gentle but strong at the same time, making her feel safe in his arms. Still she can move away with ease if she wishes to. But the question is, does she wish to be away from his safe arms?

No, truth to be told, she doesn't want to move away from Fíli.

She has wished more than once to be in his arms. A silly wish from a silly maiden, but still. What is a person without hope? And her hopes have grown even more over the passed few weeks, with Fíli opening doors for her. Or help her get seated at the table. Just a small brush of his fingers when he would take something from her hands and lingering his touch just a bit longer than necessary.

Várar continues to stare at his handsome face as his hand leaves her shoulder, only to brush away some loose strands of hair. There his hand lingers, resting on her cheek as his thumb caresses her soft skin. By now her skin feels like it is on fire, but the prince doesn't pull his hand away.

Instead he just looks at her with that strange emotion in his eyes as they scan her face. His face now so close to her own face, she can feel his breath on her skin. The braids of his mustache tickling her as he moves even closer.

'By Mahal,' he whispers softly to himself as he continues to look at her. 'You are so beautiful!'

He waits just a bit longer, waiting anxiously for her to pull away. He has made sure she can move away at any given time, in case she doesn't want this. But she has made no effort to pull away from his grasp, so Fíli takes that as a good sign. His eyes shift to her lips for a moment, before meeting her wonderful blue eyes again.

Mahal, he has waited for this moment for so long! To feel her lips against his, it had only happened in his dreams. But with her standing so close, with her breast pressed up against his chest and her mouth slightly agape. How is he suppose to resist this urge? How is he suppose to let go off her and pretend their closeness hadn't affected him?

He had kissed her already, if Kíli hadn't interrupted them. He would have told her weeks ago about his feelings, if only he had the chance. But alas, he didn't have a chance. But he can wait no longer! He must know what her lips taste like! He must know what it feels like to have her lips bruising against his own. Be it a sin or not!

Feeling he has given Várar enough time to retread, Fíli closes his eyes and closes the gap. Never in his whole life has he ever experienced such bliss. Just a small peck, but it leaves him longing for more. Much more!

Yet he will do no such thing, not unless she doesn't want him to. Dare he look at her? Dare he move at all? And why isn't she moving? Perhaps it had been a mistake after all, to kiss Várar just like that. Oh, he is such an idiot! He should have known better than to act upon his feelings!

Suddenly he hears something fall to the ground – her bow he realizes – and a small hand is placed on his cheek. A soft and gentle touch and Fíli finally dares to open his eyes to look at the female before him. A shy smile graces her features as Fíli feels her slight movement. But Várar isn't moving away from him. Instead she is moving towards him, tip-toeing to level his face.

His already quickened heartbeat skipping a beat as his mind tries to register her actions. Though he doesn't have to wait too long, for she leans in to brush her lips against his once more. Her lips ever so soft and ever so shy.

* * *

'You have kept me waiting, brother. Tell me, where is my eldest son?'

Thorin smiles as he looks at his sister. The dwarrowdam had arrived about half an hour ago, greeted by her brother and youngest son. But no sign of her eldest one. He should have been here to welcome his mother properly, just like he is suppose to. Has she not raised him properly?

'My dearest sister,' Thorin says as he walks over to his sister. 'I have told you already, Fíli will be here soon enough. Right now he is on a quest only he can complete.'

'Quest? What kind of quest? Has he not have enough of quests for one year?' Then Dís sighs in defeat. Her boy has the heart of a warrior indeed, just like his father. 'Could you not have send for another for this quest?'

'I am afraid Fíli is the only one fit for this quest, Dís,' the king replies, smiling softly at his sister. 'And he will not be the same after he has completed it.'

'Is it dangerous?'

'The most dangerous one can face.' Dís fails to notice the smirk in his face as she start to fear for her son's life. So Thorin quickly continues. 'The quest of hearts.'

Now that got her attention alright! Her son, having found love? But how? Where? Surely Dain hasn't brought any maidens with him when he marched out. Her cousin would never do something that reckless! So where could her son have found a dwarrowdam and have her steal his heart?

'We met her back at Mirkwood…'

'Mirkwood! You mean to tell me he has fallen for some woodland she-elf! I thought _you_ of all people would stop such foolishness!'

Turning on her heels, Dís walks away in anger. Though all Thorin can do is grin as he follows his younger sibling, telling her she might want to check the courtyard for the eldest prince. Curious how his sister will react when she sees her son and the lady he fancies. Dís will probably faint once she sees Várar. The resemblance she shares with her mother will make his sister think she has seen a ghost. Just like he had thought when he had seen the dwarrowdam for the first time.

'Really Thorin,' Dís rants as she paces through the halls of Erebor. 'How can you even allow your nephew – your _heir_ – to continue his romances with a she-elf?'

'She is quite a catch though, my dear sister,' Thorin says amused with his sisters anger. 'Not bad on the eye, good mannered – unlike Fíli – and knows how to handle a sword. And the daughter of Thranduil.'

He hates to address the elf like that, but to see his sister react to it has made him put his pride aside. And his statement has done exactly what he had thought it would do. Dís is absolutely furious by now, practically yelling at her king and brother for allowing such thing. Any spawn of that traitorous bastard is not worthy of her son.

'He should have been married already,' she continues as they reach the courtyard. 'Married to the daughter of my dearest friend…Gefn…'

Dís stops dead in her tracks as her eyes fall upon the pair in the courtyard. One she recognizes as her eldest son Fíli, in his arms a dwarrowdam with long auburn hair and a round freckled face. Her bright blue eyes stare at the two newcomers in shock – as do Fíli's eyes.

'Mother, you have arrived!'

The young pair practically jump away from each other, creating some distance between them like nothing had happened. But one look at the knowing look on their kings' face tells them enough as he looks at them with a smirk.

But Dís doesn't notice. Her eyes fixed on the dwarrowdam who had been in her sons arms a moment ago. Stomping her brother, Dís quickly makes way over to the female, inspecting her quickly. Upon closer inspection Dís has come to the only conclusion her mind can make.

'How could you have kept her a secret for me!'

Pulling the shocked dwarrowdam into her arms, Dís holds her in a tight embrace. Loving and motherly. Though she looks like Gefn, it is clear to the lady she isn't. Standing a bit taller than Gefn and her eyes slightly darker. Inherited from her father. Indeed, no doubt about it, the lass is a daughter of Gefn!

'Let me look at you, my dear,' Dís says as she pulls away, still holding Várar at arms length. Her brown eyes inspecting the younger dwarrowdam as she smiles brightly. 'I can't believe it. I just can't believe it! You're alive!'

'I am sorry, my lady,' Várar begins slowly as she looks at the dark haired dwarrowdam. 'But I am not who you think I am.'

'Of course you are,' Dís says smiling brightly at her. 'You are the child of my dearest friend. Daughter of Vigr and Gefn. Tell me, what is your name?'

Shocked to find the dwarrowdam before her recognizes her, Várar answers quietly.

'Várar, my lady.'

'Oh such good manners.'

Várar just smiles at her in confusion, letting the kings' sister inspect her, while inspecting her as well. Várar notices she has the same dark hair as Thorin, though her hair holding slightly more silver strings than her brother. Her brown eyes, though watery, hold the same kindness as her two sons.

But where as her brother and sons are standing quite tall, Dís does not share their height. Standing a good feet shorter than her brother.

'You look so much like her,' Dís whispers softly as she gently caresses Várar's cheek. 'Várar you said?' She nods, causing Dís to smile even brighter. 'A fitting name for the oath your mother and I took long ago. When is the wedding?'

'I-I'm sorry. What?'

Thinking she might have heard the dwarrowdam wrong, Várar looks as Dís in shock. Where did that question come from? To whom should she be we'd when she isn't even aware of any such thing? Surely she must have misunderstood her. Or perhaps it is the situation she and Fíli were caught in?

'The wedding, my dear. The wedding!'

'W-w-wedding? I, er, I'm afraid I don't understand, my lady,' Várar stammers as she looks at the dwarrowdam in shock.

At this Dís looks confused as well, seemingly pondering over something. But then she laughs, calling over her eldest son. The lad looks as confused as Várar as he slowly walks over to the pair, halting next to his mother. Even from where he was standing he could hear his mothers' question. But what has her question have to do with him?

Unless…!

* * *

Várar paces back and forth in her room, letting Dís' words sink in. How did this happen? How come she didn't know? Why didn't he tell her? Thorin had known from the start, yet he had failed to mention such a minor detail? Why?

He had spent so many time with her, talking about her mother. Telling stories about their younger years. About the close friendship between his sister and her mother. Could he not have told her then?

Várar sighs, halting for a moment. Of course he couldn't have told her. When would have been the right opportunity? She can images how such a conversation would happen.

'And then she kicked my ass for ruining her favorite dress. Oh and have I mentioned your mother promised you to Fíli?'

No, that would have been a lovely conversation. Especially since the king has known about her feelings for his nephew for a while. Though he hasn't said it out loud, she has seen his knowing look whenever she caught sight of the prince. She would just think he was jesting her.

And then there is the matter of the kiss she had shared with Fíli. Had he known about their arranged marriage? No, he was as surprised as she had been. Besides no one had known about her existence before the company were imprisoned by her father. And it had been clear to Várar that Dís had no knowledge of her, until she had walked into the courtyard earlier today.

A soft knock on her door makes Várar stop dead in her tracks. What if it is Fíli? What should she say or do? How much has changed between the two of them now that it seems they are betrothed?

'Várar,' a soft voice says, almost pleading. 'Várar, it's me, Kíli. Can I come in?'

She hesitates for a moment, but then she slowly walks over to the door and opens it. Upon seeing Kíli, Várar smiles weakly before stepping aside. Her mind is still processing everything. The kiss she had shared with Fíli, but also the arrival of his mother and the news she has brought. But still, Várar will not let a prince wait when visiting.

'You know, he is just as surprised as you are,' Kíli begins after a moment of silence.

He has taken a seat in a chair, waiting for her to do the same. Though Várar remains motionless as she just stares at the ground. Her mind clearly elsewhere. Not that he can blame her! When Kíli had heard the news he had been thrilled for his brother, having noticed the love he feels for Várar long ago. So Kíli had assumed his brother had finally acted upon his feelings and had asked for her hand in marriage – though according to Kíli it had been a bit too soon.

But then Fíli had told him about the arrangement their mother had made with Várar's and he understood why his brother had looked so shocked. Kíli himself had been shocked as well, though he had a hunch. Why else would her mother give Várar a name that means solemn oath? Besides, every time his uncle had seen Fíli and Várar together, he had a knowing smile on his face. Though there had always been something else in it as well.

'At least you fell in love before you knew about the betrothal.'

Jerking her head up, Várar looks at Kíli in surprise. How did he know about her feelings for Fíli? Had it been that obvious? And what about Fíli? Does he love her as well? Or does he only see her as a pretty face and had the kiss been something that just happened in the moment? "You are so beautiful" those words Fíli had spoken just before he kissed her. Had he meant them?

'I guess you are right,' Várar admits, walking over to him. 'At least I will marry the one I love.'

'And Fíli loves you too. He does, you know. He has done so for a long while now.'

Taking in the information, Várar smiles a little. Well, then perhaps luck is on her side after all. She loves Fíli. She has loved him for a few months now. The first fluttering of her stomach had been when she had found him outside in the cold winter evening, upset about something. His eyes had been so intense and his stare had made her look away flustered.

After that, her cheeks seemed to be burning every time her eyes locked with his, her heart racing like she had run for miles. His smile alone could make her weak in the knees and a simple touch had made her stomach flutter. All those feelings had made her confused, it had been nothing she had ever known.

But now everything has changed, has it not? She looks at the younger dwarf, her eyes showing her concern, while her lips form the words. But Kíli waves them off, stating that love will not change because of an oath made long ago. They haven't been forced to love another, they have found it themselves. And love is one of the strongest emotions – or so he has heard, he adds sheepishly, making her laugh a little.

'And here I thought you had turned into some kind of expert in love.'

Kíli laughs at this, then his eyes darken a bit. No, not an expert, but he had experienced love once, Várar realizes as she looks at the dwarf. She hasn't thought about the obvious feelings that had been between Kíli and Tauriel. To be honest, she hasn't been thinking about Tauriel that often at all. Her mind too occupied with her growing feelings for the older prince.

But who knows how often Kíli had been thinking off the late she-elf? Wishing things faith had played out differently for the both of them? How often had he been reminded off his loss while watching his brother growing closer to Várar?

'Well, I am glad,' Kíli says, smiling a weak smile. 'To have you join our family. And now I won't have to worry about Fíli coming to me for advise about how to propose to you.' He winks at her, before standing up. 'Anyway, I think it is almost time for dinner. I overheard mother and Thorin mentioning a big feast as a celebration.'

With that said, Kíli leaves.

* * *

**A/N**

**And this is where I'm leaving you for now. I know, it sucks... But at least you got what you've all been waiting for!**

**While I don't know when the next chapter will be, I hope you can be patient enough to wait for it. **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N**

**I am sooooo sorry for keeping you waiting for so long! I have this major writersblock and got stuck. So this isn't one of my best chapters, but I hope it will be pleasing enough.**

**Anyway, I want to thank everyone for leaving a review. I am really glad you like this story. As for the question about Várar's father, he died a long time ago, during the epidemic that also killed the father of Fíli and Kíli. That was in chapter 3, so no wonder some of you have forgotten about that.**

* * *

**C****hapter 22**

With his hands folded behind his back, Thranduil stares ahead. A piece of parchment in one of his hands. Though he isn't even aware he is still holding it. The raven that had brought it, still sitting on the arm of the throne, watching the elven king intently.

'_We'll be together forever, ada!_'

As he closes his eyes, Thranduil can still see the young Várar before him. Her blue eyes shining brightly as she smiles at him. Where has the time gone? He can still remember the day Tauriel had brought the infant dwarrowdam before him and how Várar had stolen his heart there and then. It seems like only yesterday, yet is has been almost eighty years already!

Hearing the raven cawing, Thranduil is reminded again of the letter. The dwarves have returned to Erebor, it says. And with them, the king's sister. But it is not all. Várar is to be married to one of the princes, the eldest one. The one who has stolen her heart.

"As it turns out, I have been betrothed to the prince from birth."

He re-reads the line again. It had been destiny for the two of them to meet. Destiny to marry one other. But luckily they had fallen in love before either of them knew about their betrothal.

'_When I am older, I am going to marry you, ada. Or maybe Legolas. But we'll be together forever!_'

A sad smile slowly forms on his face, as he remembers the innocence of the four year old Várar. And he had answered her lovingly. She could not marry her father. But she would marry a handsome prince one day.

And now his little _gwilwileth_ is indeed going to marry a prince. The crown prince of a kingdom that had once been the greatest of all. She will be a wonderful queen once, he should know. He has raised his daughter well.

Yes, daughter. While she isn't his by blood, family is more than blood alone. It goes even beyond races. And Várar has become as much as a daughter to the king, as Legolas is his son. And to know how his reckless daughter has turned into a proper princess, fills him with pride.

He has seen her grow, witnessed her first steps, heard her first words. And with every step he had been there to catch her. With every word he felt pride build up inside. And every time he held her in his arms, he could not contain the smile on his face. To be able to call her his daughter, no words can describe such feelings.

He had made it his task to stand by her side, teach her the best he could. She belonged with him and he with her. Yet he had to let her go when those dwarves had showed up. He had to let his beloved daughter go, for her happiness. But she will be forever in his heart. Várar will have to follow her own path now, but that doesn't mean the king isn't worried about his – not so – little girl!

'My king, what word does the princess bring?'

At first Thranduil doesn't answer. The worry had been evident in Elros' voice, but Thranduil cannot find the strength to answer him just yet. Várar, his Várar, is getting married! His beautiful daughter has given her heart to someone other than her father or brother.

'Sire?'

'Spread the news, my daughter is getting married!'

* * *

A nervous Várar takes in her reflection as a maid is working on her hair. Multiple small braids have been placed all through her hair, intertwining at some points. Reflecting the joining of two dwarves. The loose hair reflecting the free spirit of each individual.

Her white gown trimmed with gold linings and a dwarvish blessing on her side. The small golden runes blessing her to be fruitful – or so one of the maids had told her. Várar wouldn't know. Though Thorin had taught her Khuzdul, these runes are strange to her. But apparently they have been embroidered by order of Dís.

To be honest, she looks great in her dress, showing her curves perfectly. Of course is does, the seamstress has been working on it for weeks! And not to mention the broidery! But she has done a marvelous job.

To think she is getting married! And so soon! It has only been a year ago when she had first come in contact with dwarves. And only a year ago the dwarves had reclaimed Erebor. And now, on Durins Day, she is going to marry the crown-prince! The prince that had stolen her heart without her even knowing it.

'Stop fiddling with your dress, dear,' a voice suddenly says from behind her and Várar snaps back to reality. She hasn't even noticed she had been fiddling. 'You look absolutely wonderful, Várar,' Dís says as she walks up to the dwarrowdam. 'Your mother would be so proud of the fine woman you have become.'

'Thank you, my lady,' Várar says with a curtsy. 'That means a lot, coming from her childhood friend.'

With a wave of her hand, Dís dismisses the maids, leaving the two of them alone.

'How do you feel, dear?'

'Nervous.'

The dark-haired dwarrowdam laughs at this, telling Várar she isn't the only one. Fíli is even worse, according to the lady. Being a nervous wreck. The poor lad has been pacing back and forth in his room the whole morning and not even Kíli can seem to ease his nerves.

'But,' Dís continues with a wink, 'that will all fade away once he sees you. Then he will no longer see the crowd, only you.'

Várar smiles weakly. The crowd is exactly why she is feeling nervous. She is so different from the dwarves. That much she has noticed since the dwarves have returned. With just the small company, she wasn't bothered by the difference much. And neither were the dwarves. But with Erebor being filled with life again, she has come to notice how different dwarves are from elves. And while Várar might look like a dwarf – of course she does, she _is_ a dwarf – she has come to realize she is much more like an elf.

And while only the high lords and ladies will attend the ceremony, there will be enough to make the young dwarrowdam feel out of place. Luckily for her, the members of the company will be present as honored guests.

'Well, come on dear,' Dís says, linking her arm through Várar's. 'It's almost time. Thorin is already waiting for you down the hall.'

With that said, the excited dwarrowdam guides the bride out of the chamber. But Várar doesn't really take notice. She lets her soon-to-be mother-in-law drag her trough the hallway, her feet moving on their own. But her mind is elsewhere.

Everything has happened so fast, perhaps too fast. And without her family it wouldn't really be a real wedding to her. It should have been her father, the king of elves, who should give her away. Not Thorin. No matter how much she cares for the dwarf-king, Thranduil is her father!

But alas, the dwarves and elves still don't get along well. And even if her father was to come, he would aggravate Thorin the best he could, resulting in Thorin – and other dwarves – to react to it the way he always does.

'You look radiant, Várar.'

The deep voice of Thorin snaps her out of her thoughts, and Várar looks at him. An insecure smile on her lips as she stops in front of him. With a small nod, she thanks him silently, seeing as she doesn't trust her voice. She really wishes it would have been her father to give her away. Isn't that the task of the brides father? No matter what culture?

'Fíli is a lucky dwarf,' Thorin says as he takes the bride from his sister. 'What do you say, shall we let the anxious groom wait just a little longer? I have a surprise for you, that cannot wait.'

Without waiting for an answer, Thorin guides the dwarrowdam through the halls of Erebor. The same halls Várar has walked through a year ago. Though it had been dark back then, with only a few torches to light the way. But now there is no sign of that darkness anymore. And the once empty walls now decorated with dancing flames.

'Thorin, where are you taking me?' Várar asks as they stop in front of a door. 'The wedding is about to start.'

But Thorin doesn't answer. He just gives her a smile, before opening the door.

A small gasp escapes her mouth, as the dwarrowdam takes notice of her king's surprise. Then she quickly leaves his side as she rushes over to the tall frame in from of her. Her arms quickly wrap themselves around his waist as he places a hand over her head.

It has been so long since she has seen him! And she would have never thought him to be here right now. Not wanting to be around the dwarves, except for her of course. But he has come! He has come and that is all that matters!

'Ada, I've missed you,' she finally says as she releases the elven king. 'I thought you wouldn't come.'

'And miss the most important day of my beloved daughter?' Thranduil chuckles, giving her a quick kiss on her brow. 'It seems that two kings _can_ see eye to eye at times. You have done a wonderful job at keeping our agreement a secret, Thorin.'

At this, Várar turns her head, to see the dwarven king watching them with his arms crossed. But instead of his usual frown when dealing with elves, he is actually smirking at them. Or more specific, Thranduil.

'Well, I wouldn't want to ruin my surprise for the bride-to-be,' the dwarf answers casually. 'Besides, no matter how much I dislike elves, Várar deserves to be given away by the man she calls father.'

The two males nod at each other in silent agreement, before Thorin leaves through a different door.

'Well, gwilwileth,' Thranduil says as he offers her his arm. 'Shall we then?'

With a bright smile she nods.

* * *

**A/N**

**And that marks the end of a long waited chapter. Again, I apologize for having kept you waiting! I know the chapter is shorter than what you are used to. But I am not really into having writing down the whole ceremony thing and all and skipping it during the chapter just didn't seem right for me.**

**And because of the writer block I have for this story, I don't know when I will be uploading a new chapter. And for that I apologize as well.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

A shadow moves over the shelves, slow and calculated. The candle flickering every so often as Várar continues her search. Her fingers tracing the scrolls, not being able to find the right one.

Khuzdul, all are written in the dwarvish language. Not one in the common tongue and for sure none elvish. A frustrated sigh leaves her lips. So much for an easy read! Though she has learned the language of her people, reading of the runes still remain a difficult task. Even after all these years.

Slowly a small smile forms as she remembers her wedding day. It has been five years already! And not one single moment of regret. Well, she has had some regrets, but none concerning her marriage to Fíli. For the dwarf-prince has been good to her. But more so of lacking the habits of the dwarves and tongue. And while her speech is fluent now and her manners slightly less elvish, her priority has never been reading Khuzdul.

A door opens and closes and Várar looks up. She hasn't even realized she had been deep in thought. But the sudden noise has snapped her out of her thoughts and away from her search.

'There you are,' a voice comes from behind her and she smiles. 'I should have known my lovely wife would be found in the library.'

'How did the meeting go, my love?'

Turning around, Várar faces her smiling husband. His blue eyes matching his smile, mixed with a hint of mischief. He tells her it went well. A bit boring, but well.

'But it seems I have a more pressing matter to handle right now,' he tells her as he takes a step closer. 'For I fear I have neglected my duties towards my lady.'

His voice has grown deeper as he eyes Várar, while the dwarrowdam herself tries to hide her blush. Still, she smiles as his arms snake around her waist. A teasing peck is placed on his lips, causing him to pull her tightly against himself.

'And what duties might that be, my prince?'

His lips curl into a smirk as he lowers his head to her ear. His hot breath tickling her skin as he speaks.

'My duty to make you crawl beneath me, to make you scream out my name as I worship your body while making love to you,' he whispers huskily.

She pretends to ponder over his offer for a moment, her finger placed against her chin. Though it is proven a difficult task, as Fíli starts to place soft kisses down her neck. His hands roaming over her lower back, her concentration hard to find.

Still, she needs to talk to Fíli first! For it is important. Besides, a library is hardly the place to be doing that what her husband has in mind. So she places a hand on his chest, gently pushing him away slightly. Ignoring his protest.

'Fíli, wait. There is something I have to tell you.'

The seriousness of her voice makes him look at her with a frown. She usually doesn't dismisses his advances, so it must be serious.

'What is it, my love?'

He scans her face for any hint, but finds none. Is something the matter? Is his wife sick? Or perhaps it is something he has done? Fíli starts to feel a bit concerned and not even her reassuring smile helps.

That is, until she speaks.

'Say that again, please?' Fíli asks, wanting to make sure he heard her right.

'I'm with child,' she says again.

So he has heard her right. Still his mind need to register her every word. His wife is with child, _his_ child! That means..!

'I'm going to be a father?' Her nod confirms his thought. 'I'm going to be a father!'

Without a second thought, he lifts Várar up and twirls her around. He is going to be a father! His lips curl up into a smile again, as he gently places Várar on the ground again. He kisses her deeply, before kneeling down to the ground. His hands placed softly on her abdomen as he places a soft kiss.

He doesn't care if others might see or what they might think. Let the whole kingdom know, for he, Fíli, son of Víli, prince and heir to the throne, is going to be a father!

'You know what that means?' Fíli murmurs as he lays his head against her abdomen. 'It means we have to celebrate.'

With a smirk he stands up abruptly, picking his wife up with ease, before marching out of the library and off to their chambers.

* * *

**A/N**

**Thats it, folks. No more chapters. It is sad to say, but I have finished this story. I had a fun time writing this, loving the moments between Várar and Thranduil, even though this was a Fíli fanfic. What about you guys?**

**Anyway, thank you, mystique999, for inspiring me to write this story. Your request has proven to be a challenging but statisfying task. I hope you have enjoyed reading it.**

**As for my reviewers, thank you all, for your kinds words. They have pushed me to continue writing, motivating me each and every time. Whenever I had a difficult time writing a chapter, I would re-read your reviews. So thank you all.**

**Oh, and for those who haven't noticed, I have started a new story, called Taming the Wolf. Perhaps worth a try for those who like my writing?**

**Anyway, thank you again, and I hope to meet you again in another story.**


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